
Class_L_ 

Book __ 



y'N B O Y S from 
.HARLES DICKENS 



; 









BOLDER 




QRAYMARSH. 



MOBB'S 






TEN BOYS from 
DICKENS 

By 

Kate Dickinson Sweetser 

• l 

Illustrated by 
GEORGE ALFRED WILLIAMS 




New York • R. H. Russell 

Nineteen Hundred and One 



C O P Y R 



I 9 O I 



B Y 



ROBERT HOWARD RUSSELL 



THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 

Two Copies Received 

OCT. 16 1901 

COPVRIQHT ENTRY 

CLASS ^XXc. No. 

copy a 



4$ 



<b\ 



JNivHRjivy; p.^ss . juhn wiis(/N, 

AND SON '. CAMBRIDGE, U. S. A. 



PREFACE 



IN this small volume there are presented as complete 
stories the boy-lives portrayed in the works of 
Charles Dickens. The boys are followed only to the 
threshold of manhood, and in all cases the original text 
of the story has been kept, except where of necessity a 
phrase or paragraph has been inserted to connect pas- 
sages; — while the net-work of characters with which 
the boys are surrounded in the books from which they 
are taken, has been eliminated, except where such char- 
acters seem necessary to the development of the story 
in hand. 

Charles Dickens was a loyal champion of all boys, 
and underlying his pen pictures of them was an earnest 
desire to remedy evils which he had found existing in 
London and its suburbs. Poor Jo, who was always 
being "moved on," David Copperfield, whose early life 
was a picture of Dickens' own childhood, workhouse- 
reared Oliver, and the miserable wretches at Dotheboy 
Hall were no mere creations of an author's vivid imagi- 
nation. They were descriptions of living boys, the 
victims of tyranny and oppression which Dickens felt 
he must in some way alleviate. And so he wrote his 



/ 



PREFACE 

novels with the histories in them which affected the 
London public far more deeply, of course, than they 
affect us, and awakened a. storm of indignation and 
protest. 

Schools, work-houses, and other public institutions 
were subjected to a rigorous examination, and in con- 
sequence several were closed, while all were greatly 
improved. Thus, in his sketches of boy-life, Dickens 
accomplished his object. 

My aim is to bring these sketches, with all their 
beauty and pathos, to the notice of the young people of 
to-day. If through this volume any boy or girl should 
be aroused to a keener interest in the great writer, and 
should learn to love him and his work, my labour will 
be richly repaid. 

KATE DICKINSON SWEETSER 



CONTENTS 



PAGE 

Tiny Tim -h . 3 

Oliver Twist . n 

Tommy Traddles 45 

"Deputy" 53 

Dotheboys Hall. 61 

David Copperfield 89 



Kit Nubbles 123 

Jo, the Crossing Sweeper 147 

Paul Dombey 163 

Pip 191 



TINY TIM 



TEN BOYS/r« 
CHARLES DICKENS 

TINY TIM 



CHARLES DICKENS has given us no picture of 
Tiny Tim, but at the thought of him comes a vision 
of a delicate figure, less boy than spirit. We seem 
to see a face oval in shape and fair in colouring. 
We see eyes deep-set and grey, shaded by lashes as dark as 
the hair parted from the middle of his low forehead. We see 
a sunny, patient smile which from time to time lights up his 
whole face, and a mouth whose firm, strong lines reveal clearly 
the beauty of character, and the happiness of disposition, which 
were Tiny Tim's. 

He was a rare little chap indeed, and a prime favourite as 
well. Ask the Crachits old and young, whose smile they 
most desired, whose applause they most coveted, whose errands 
they almost fought with one another to run, whose sadness 
or pain could most affect the family happiness, and with one 
voice they would answer, cc Tim's ! " 

It was Christmas Day, and in all the suburbs of London 
there was to be no merrier celebration than at the Crachits. 
To be sure, Bob Crachit had but fifteen " Bob " himself a 
week on which to clothe and feed all the little Crachits, but 
what they lacked in luxuries they made up in affection and 
contentment, and would not have changed places, one of them, 
with any king or queen. 

3 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

While Bob took Tiny Tim to church, preparations for the 
feast were going on at home. Mrs. Crachit was dressed in a 
twice-turned gown, but brave in ribbons which are cheap and 
make a goodly show for sixpence; and she laid the cloth, 
assisted by Belinda, second of her daughters, also brave in 
ribbons, while Master Peter Crachit plunged a fork into a 
saucepan full of potatoes, getting the corners of his monstrous 
shirt collar (Bob's private property, conferred upon his son 
and heir in honour of the day) into his mouth, but rejoiced to 
find himself so finely dressed, and yearning to show his linen 
in the fashionable Parks. 

Two smaller Crachits, boy and girl, came tearing in, 
screaming that outside the baker's they had smelt the goose, 
and known it for their own ; and basking in luxurious 
thoughts of sage and onions, these young Crachits danced about 
the table, and exalted Master Peter Crachit to the skies, while 
he (not proud, although his collar almost choked him) blew the 
fire, until the slow potatoes, bubbling up, knocked loudly at 
the saucepan-lid to be let out and peeled. 

" What has ever got your precious father, then ? " said 
Mrs. Crachit. " And your brother, Tiny Tim ! And Martha 
war n't as late last Christmas Day by half an hour ! " 

" Here's Martha, mother! " cried the two young Crachits. 
" Hurrah I there 's such a goose, Martha ! " 

" Why, bless your heart alive, dear, how late you are ! " said 
Mrs. Crachit, kissing the daughter, who lived away from home, 
a dozen times. " Well, never mind as long as you are come ! " 

cc There 's father coming ! " cried the two young Crachits, 
who were everywhere at once. " Hide, Martha, hide / " 

So Martha hid herself, and in came little Bob, the father, 
with at least three feet of comforter hanging down before him, 
and his threadbare clothes darned up and brushed to look 
seasonable ; and Tiny Tim upon his shoulder. Why was the 

4 



TINY TIM 

child thus carried ? Alas for Tiny Tim, he bore a little 
crutch and had his limbs supported by an iron frame ! Patient 
little Tim, — never was he heard to utter a fretful or complain- 
ing word. No wonder they cherished him so tenderly ! 

" Why, where 's our Martha ? " cried Bob Crachit looking 
round. 

" Not coming ! " said Mrs. Crachit. 

" Not coming ? " said Bob, with a sudden declension in his 
high spirits ; for he had been Tim's blood horse all the way 
from church, and had come home rampant. 

" Not coming upon Christmas Day ! " 

Martha did n't like to see him disappointed, if it were only 
in joke; so she ran out from behind the closet door, and ran 
into his arms, while the two young Crachits hustled Tiny 
Tim, and bore him off into the wash-house, that he might hear 
the pudding singing in the copper. 

"And how did little Tim behave?" asked Mrs. Crachit; 
when she had rallied Bob on his credulity, and Bob had 
hugged his daughter to his heart's content. 

" As good as gold," said Bob, " and better. Somehow he 
gets thoughtful, sitting by himself so much, and thinks the 
strangest things you ever heard. He told me, coming home, 
that c he hoped the people saw him in the church, because he 
was a cripple, and it might be ple'asant to them to remember 
upon Christmas Day, Who made lame beggars walk and blind 
men see.' " 

Bob's voice was tremulous when he told them this, and it 
trembled more when he said that Tiny Tim was growing 
strong and hearty. 

His active little crutch was heard upon the floor, and back 
came Tiny Tim before another word was spoken, escorted by 
his brother and sister to his stool before the fire ; and while 
Bob compounded some hot mixture in a jug and put it on 

5 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

the hob to simmer, Master Peter and the two young Crachits 
went to fetch the goose, with which they soon returned in high 
procession. 

Such a bustle ensued that you might have thought the 
goose the rarest of all birds, and in truth it was something 
very like it in that house. Mrs. Crachit made the gravy hiss- 
ing hot ; Master Peter mashed the potatoes with incredible 
vigour ; Miss Belinda sweetened up the apple sauce ; Martha 
dusted the hot plates ; Bob took Tiny Tim beside him in a 
corner at the table ; the two young Crachits set chairs for every- 
body, not forgetting themselves, and mounting guard upon 
their posts, crammed spoons into their mouths, lest they should 
shriek for goose before their turn came to be helped. At last 
the dishes were set on and grace was said. It was succeeded 
by a breathless pause, as Mrs. Crachit, looking slowly along 
the carving knife, prepared to plunge it in the breast. When 
she did one murmur of delight arose all round the board, and 
even Tiny Tim, excited by the two young Crachits, beat 
on the table with the handle of his knife, and feebly cried 
" Hurrah ! " 

There never was such a goose ! its tenderness and size, 
flavour and cheapness, were the themes of universal admira- 
tion. Eked out by apple-sauce and mashed potatoes, every one 
had enough, and the youngest Crachits were steeped in sage 
and onion to the eyebrows ! But now, the plates being changed, 
Mrs. Crachit left the room alone — too nervous to bear wit- 
nesses — to take the pudding up, and bring it in. 

Suppose it should not be done enough ! Suppose it 
should break in turning out ! All sorts of horrors were 
supposed. 

Hallo ! a great deal of steam ! The pudding was out 
of the copper, and in half a minute Mrs. Crachit entered, 
flushed, but smiling proudly, with the pudding blazing in 

6 



TINY TIM 

ignited brandy, and with Christmas holly stuck into the 
top. 

Its appearance was hailed with cheers and with exclama- 
tions of joyous admiration. Then, when it was safely landed 
upon the table, what a racket and clatter there was ! Such 
stories and songs and jokes, and such riotous applause no 
one can imagine who was not there to see and hear ! 

At last the dinner was all done, the cloth was cleared, 
the hearth swept, and the fire made up. The compound in 
the jug being tasted and pronounced perfect, apples and 
oranges were put upon the table and a shovelful of chestnuts 
on the fire. Then all the Crachit family drew round the 
hearth, Tiny Tim very close to his father's side, upon his 
little stool, while he gave them a song in his plaintive little 
voice, about a lost child, and sang it very well indeed. 

At Bob Crachit' s elbow stood the family display of glass ; 
two tumblers and a custard cup without a handle. These 
held the hot stuff from the jug, however, as well as golden 
goblets would have done, and Bob served it out with beam- 
ing looks, while the chestnuts sputtered and cracked noisily. 
Then Bob proposed : 

" A merry Christmas to us all, my dears, — God bless us ! " 

which was just what was needed to bring the joy and enthu- 
siasm to a climax. Cheer after cheer went up, over and over 
the toast was re-echoed, and then one was added for the family 
ogre, Bob's hard employer, Mr. Scrooge, and one for old and 
for young, for sick and for well, for Father Christmas and for 
Father Crachit and for all the little Crachits ; — for every- 
one everywhere who had heard the holiday bells, there was a 
toast given. Then when the uproar ceased for a moment, 
low and sweet spoke Tiny Tim alone : 

" God bless us every one ! " 

7 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

Clearly it rang out in the earnest childish voice. There was 
a sudden hush of the merriment, while Bob's arm stole round 
his son with a firmer grasp and for a moment the shadow of a 
coming Christmas fell upon him, when the little stool would 
be vacant and the little crutch unused. 

Spirit of Tiny Tim, thy childish essence was from God ! 
Thou didst not know that in the benediction of lives like 
thine, is given the answer to such prayers. Much did thy 
loved ones learn from thee ; much can the world learn of 
the nobility of patience from thy sweet child life. Unawares 
thou wert thyself an answer to thy Christmas prayer : 

" God bless us every one I " 



OLIVER TWIST 



OLIVER TWIST 



OLIVER TWIST was the child of an unknown 
woman who died in the workhouse of an English 
village, almost as soon as her babe drew his first 
breath. The mother's name being unknown, the 
workhouse officials called the child Oliver Twist, under which 
title he grew up. For nine years he was farmed out at a 
branch poorhouse, where with twenty or thirty other children 
he bore all the miseries consequent on neglect, abuse, and star- 
vation. He was then removed to the workhouse proper to be 
taught a useful trade. 

His ninth birthday found him a pale, thin child, diminutive 
in stature, and decidedly small in circumference, but possessed 
of a good sturdy spirit, which was not broken by the policy of 
the officials who tried to get "as much work out of the paupers 
as possible, and to keep them on as scant a supply of food as 
would sustain life. 

The boys were fed in a large stone hall, with a copper at 
one end, out of which the gruel was ladled at meal-times. Of 
this festive composition each boy had one porringer, and no 
more — except on occasions of great public rejoicing, when 
he had two ounces and a quarter of bread besides. The 
bowls never wanted washing. The boys polished them with 
their spoons till they shone again ; and when they had per- 
formed this operation, they would sit staring at the copper, 
as if they could have devoured the very bricks of which it 
was composed ; sucking their fingers, with the view of catch- 
ing up any stray splashes of gruel that might have been cast 
thereon. 

ii 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

Boys have generally excellent appetites. Oliver Twist and 
his companions suffered the tortures of slow starvation for three 
months : at last they got so voracious and wild that one boy 
hinted darkly that unless he had another basin of gruel a day, 
he was afraid he might some night happen to eat the boy who 
slept next him. He had a wild, hungry, eye ; and they implicitly 
believed him. A council was held ; lots were cast who should 
walk up to the master, and ask for more, and it fell to Oliver 
Twist. 

The evening arrived ; the boys took their places. The gruel 
was served out, and a long grace was said. The gruel disap- 
peared ; the boys whispered each other, and winked at Oliver ; 
while his next neighbours nudged him. Child as he was, he was 
desperate with hunger, and reckless with misery. He rose and 
advancing to the master, basin and spoon in hand, said, some- 
what alarmed at his own temerity : 

" Please, sir, I want some more ! " 

The master was a fat, healthy man ; but he turned very pale. 
He gazed in stupifled astonishment on the small rebel for some 
seconds, and then clung for support to the copper. The 
assistants were paralysed with wonder ; the boys with fear. 

"What ? " said the master at length, in a faint voice. 

" Please, sir," replied Oliver, " I want some more." 

The master aimed a blow at Oliver's head with the ladle ; 
pinioned him in his arms ; and shrieked for the beadle, and 
when that gentleman appeared, an animated discussion took 
place. Oliver was ordered into instant confinement; and 
a bill was next morning pasted on the outside of the gate, offer- 
ing a reward of five pounds to any body who would take 
Oliver Twist off the hands of the parish. In other words, 
five pounds, and Oliver Twist were offered to any man or 
woman who wanted an apprentice to any trade, business, or 
calling. 



OLIVER TWIST 

Mr. Sowerberry, the parish undertaker, finally applied for 
the prize, and carried Oliver away with him, which, for the 
poor boy, was a matter of falling from the frying pan into the 
fire, and in his short career as undertaker's assistant he even 
sighed for the workhouse, — miserable as his life there had 
been. At the undertaker's, Oliver's bed was in the shop. The 
atmosphere seemed tainted with the smell of coffins. The 
recess behind the counter in which his mattress was thrust, 
looked like a grave. His food was broken bits left from the 
meals of others, and his constant companion was an older boy, 
Noah Claypole, who, although a charity boy himself, was not 
a workhouse orphan, and therefore considered himself in a 
position above Oliver. He made Oliver's days hideous with 
his abuse, which the younger boy bore as quietly as he could, 
until the day when Noah made a sneering remark about 
Oliver's dead mother. That was too much. Crimson with 
fury, Oliver started up, seized Noah by the throat, shook 
him till his teeth chattered, and then with one heavy blow, 
felled him to the ground. 

This brought about a violent scene, for Noah accused 
Oliver of attempting to murder him, and Mrs. Sowerberry, 
the maid, and the beadle, — who had been hastily summoned, 
— agreed that Oliver was a hardened wretch, only fit for con- 
finement, and he was accordingly placed in the cellar, till the 
undertaker came in, when he was dragged out again to have 
the story retold. To do Mr. Sowerberry justice, he would 
have been kindly disposed towards Oliver, but for the preju- 
dice of his wife against the boy. However, to satisfy her, 
he gave Oliver a sound beating, and shut him up in the back 
kitchen until night, when, amidst the jeers and pointings of 
Noah and Mrs. Sowerberry, he was ordered up-stairs to his 
dismal bed. 

It was then, alone, in the silence of the gloomy workshop, 

13 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

that Oliver gave way to his feelings, wept bitterly, and resolved 
no longer to bear such treatment. Softly he undid the fasten- 
ings of the door, and looked abroad. It was a cold night. 
The stars seemed, to the boy's eyes, farther from the earth than 
he had ever seen them before ; there was no wind ; and the 
sombre shadows looked sepulchral and death-like, from being 
so still. He softly reclosed the door, and having availed him- 
self of the expiring light of the candle to tie up in a hand- 
kerchief the few articles of wearing apparel he had, sat himself 
down to wait for morning. 

With the first ray of light, Oliver arose, and again unbarred 
the door. One timid look around, — one minute's pause of 
hesitation, — he had closed it behind him. 

He looked to the right, and to the left, uncertain whither 
to fly. He remembered to have seen the waggons, as they 
went out, toiling up the hill, so he took the same route ; and 
arriving at a footpath which he knew led out into the road, 
struck into it, and walked quickly on. 

For seven long days he tramped in the direction of* 
London, tasting nothing but such scraps of meals as he could 
beg from the occasional cottages by the roadside. On the 
seventh morning he limped slowly into the little town of 
Barnet, and as he was resting for a few moments on the steps 
of a public-house, a boy crossed over, and walking close to 
him, said, 

" Hullo ! my covey ! What 's the row ? " 

The boy who addressed this inquiry to the young way- 
farer, was about his own age : but one of the queerest looking 
boys that Oliver had ever seen. He was a snub-nosed, flat- 
browed, common-faced boy enough ; and as dirty a juvenile as 
one would wish to see ; but he had about him all the airs 
and manners of a man. He was short, with bow-legs, and 
little, sharp, ugly, eyes. His hat was stuck on the top of 

14 



OLIVER TWIST 

his head, and he wore a man's coat that reached nearly to 
his heels. 

" Hullo, my covey ! What 's the row ? " said this strange 
young gentleman to Oliver. 

"I am very hungry and tired," replied Oliver; the tears 
standing in his eyes as he spoke. " I have walked a long way. 
I have been walking these seven days." 

" Going to London ? " inquired the strange boy. 

"Yes." 

" Got any lodgings ? " 

" No." 

"Money?" 

" No." 

The strange boy whistled ; and put his arms into his 
pockets. 

" Do you live in London ? " inquired Oliver. 

" Yes, I do when I 'm at home," replied the boy. " I 
suppose you want some place to sleep in to-night, don't you ? " 

Upon Oliver answering in the affirmative, the strange boy, 
whose name was Jack Dawkins, said, " I Ve got to be in 
London to-night ; and I know a 'spectable old genelman as 
lives there, wot '11 give you lodgings for nothink, and never 
ask for the change — that is, if any genelman he knows inter- 
duces you." 

This offer of shelter was too tempting to be resisted, and 
Oliver trudged off with his new friend. Into the city they 
passed, and through the worst and darkest streets, the sight of 
which filled Oliver with alarm. At length they reached the 
door of a house, which Jack entered, drawing Oliver after him, 
into its dark passage-way, and closing the door after them. 

Oliver, groping his way with one hand, and having the 
other firmly grasped by his companion, ascended with much 
difficulty the dark and broken stairs, which his conductor 

15 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

mounted with an expedition that showed he was well ac- 
quainted with them. He threw open the door of a back-room 
and drew Oliver in after him. 

The walls and ceiling of the room were perfectly black with 
age and dirt. There was a clothes-horse, over which a great 
number of silk handkerchiefs were hanging ; and a deal table 
before the fire ; upon which were a candle, stuck in a ginger- 
beer bottle, two or three pewter pots, a loaf and butter, and a 
plate. In a frying pan, which was on the fire, some sausages 
were cooking, and standing over them, with a toasting-fork 
in his hand, was a very old shrivelled Jew, whose villanous- 
looking and repulsive face was obscured by a quantity of 
matted red hair. 

Several rough beds, made of old sacks, were huddled side by 
side on the floor. Seated round the table were four or five boys, 
none older than Jack Dawkins, familiarly called the Dodger. 
The boys all crowded about their associate, as he whispered a 
few words to the Jew ;. and then they turned round and grinned 
at Oliver. So did the Jew himself, toasting-fork in hand. 

cc This is him, Fagin," said Jack Dawkins ; " my friend 
Oliver Twist." 

The Jew, making a low bow to Oliver, took him by the 
hand, and hoped he should have the honour of his intimate 
acquaintance. Upon this the young gentlemen came round 
him, and shook his hand very hard, especially the one in which 
he held his little bundle. 

"We are very glad to see you, Oliver, very," said the Jew. 
" Dodger take off the sausages ; and draw a tub near the fire 
for Oliver. Ah, you're a-staring at the pocket-handkerchiefs ! 
eh, my dear ? There are a good many of 'em, ain't there ? 
We 've just looked 'em out ready for the wash ; that 's all, 
Oliver, that's all. Ha! ha! ha!" 

The latter part of this speech was hailed by a boisterous 

16 



OLIVER TWIST 

shout from the boys, who, Oliver found, were all pupils of the 
merry old gentleman. In the midst of which they went to 
supper. 

Oliver ate his share, and the Jew then mixed him a glass 
of hot gin and water, telling him he must drink it off directly 
because another gentleman wanted the tumbler. Oliver did as 
he was desired. Immediately afterwards, he felt himself gently 
lifted on to one of the sacks ; and then he sunk into a deep 
sleep. 

It was late next morning when Oliver awoke, from a sound, 
long sleep. There was no other person in the room but the 
old Jew, who was boiling some coffee in a saucepan for break- 
fast, and whistling softly to himself as he stirred it. He would 
stop every now and then to listen when there was the least 
noise below ; and, when he had satisfied himself, he would go 
on, whistling and stirring again, as before. 

When the coffee was done, the Jew drew the saucepan 
to the hob, then he turned and looked at Oliver, and called 
him by name, but the boy did not answer, and was to all 
appearances asleep. After satisfying himself upon this head, 
the Jew stepped gently to the door, which he fastened. He 
then drew forth, as it seemed to Oliver, from some trap in 
the floor a small box, which he placed carefully on the table. 
His eyes glistened as he raised the lid, and looked in. Drag- 
ging an old chair to the table, he sat down, and took from 
it a magnificent gold watch, sparkling with jewels. 

At least half a dozen more were severally drawn forth 

from the same box, besides rings, brooches, bracelets, and 

other articles of jewellery, of such magnificent materials, and 

costly workmanship, that Oliver had no idea, even of their 

names. 

At length the bright, dark eyes of the Jew, which had 

been staring vacantly before him, fell on Oliver's face ; the 

17 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

boy's eyes were fixed on his in mute curiosity ; and, although 
the recognition was only for an instant, — it was enough to 
show the man that he had been observed. He closed the 
lid of the box with a loud crash ; and, laying his hand on a 
bread knife which was on the table, started furiously up. 

"What 's that? " said the Jew. " What do you watch me 
for ? Why are you awake ? What have you seen ? Speak 
out, boy ! Quick — quick ! for your life ! " 

" I was n't able to sleep any longer, sir," replied Oliver 
meekly. " I am very sorry if I have disturbed you, sir." 

" You were not awake an hour ago ? " said the Jew, scowling 
fiercely. 

" No ! No indeed ! " replied Oliver. 

" Are you sure ? " cried the Jew, with a still fiercer look 
than before, and a threatening attitude. 

" Upon my word I was not, sir," replied Oliver, earnestly. 
cc I was not, indeed, sir." 

" Tush, tush, my dear!" said the Jew, abruptly resuming 
his old manner. " Of course I know that, my dear, I only 
tried to frighten you. You're a brave boy. Ha ! ha! you're 
a brave boy, Oliver ! " 

The Jew rubbed his hands with a chuckle, but glanced 
uneasily at the box, notwithstanding. 

" Did you see any of these pretty things, my dear ? " said 
the Jew. 

" Yes, sir," replied Oliver. 

" Ah ! " said Fagin, turning rather pale. cc They — they 're 
mine, Oliver; my little property. All I have to live upon in 
my old age. The folks call me a miser, my dear. Only a 
miser; that's all." 

Oliver thought the old gentleman must be a decided miser 
to live in such a dirty place, with so many watches ; but think- 
ing that perhaps his fondness for the Dodger and the other 

18 



OLIVER TWIST 

boys, cost him a good deal of money, he only cast a deferential 
look at the Jew, and asked if he might get up. Permission 
being granted him, he got up, walked across the room, and 
stooped for an instant to raise the water-pitcher. When he 
turned his head, the box was gone. 

Presently the Dodger returned with a friend, Charley Bates, 
and the four sat down to a breakfast of coffee, and some hot 
rolls, and ham, which the Dodger had brought home in the 
crown of his hat. 

" Well," said the Jew, cc I hope you 've been at work 
this morning, my dears?" 

" Hard," replied the Dodger. 

" As Nails," added Charley Bates. . 

" Good boys, good boys I " said the Jew. " What have 
you got, Dodger ? " 

" A couple of pocket-books," replied the young gentleman. 

" Lined ? " inquired the Jew, with eagerness. 

" Pretty well," replied the Dodger, producing two pocket- 
books. 

"And what have you got, my dear?" said Fagin to 
Charley Bates. 

" Wipes," replied Master Bates ; at the same time produc- 
ing four pocket-handkerchiefs. 

"Well," said the Jew, inspecting them closely; "they're 
very good ones, very. You have n't marked them well, though, 
Charley; so the marks shall be picked out with a needle, and 
we '11 teach Oliver how to do it. Shall us, Oliver, eh? " 

"If you please, sir," said Oliver. 

" You 'd like to be able to make pocket-handkerchiefs 
as easy as Charley Bates, would n't you, my dear ? " said the 
Jew. 

"Very much indeed, if you '11 teach me, sir," replied 
Oliver. 

19 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

Master Bates saw something so exquisitely ludicrous in 
this reply, that he burst into a laugh; which laugh, meeting 
the coffee he was drinking, and carrying it down some wrong 
channel, very nearly terminated in his suffocation. 

" He is so jolly green ! " said Charley, when he recovered, 
as an apology to the company for his unpolite behaviour. 

When the breakfast was cleared away, the merry old 
gentleman and the two boys played at a very curious and 
uncommon game, which was performed in this way. Fagin, 
placing a snuff-box in one pocket of his trousers, a note- 
case in the other, and a watch in his waistcoat pocket, with 
a guard-chain round his neck, and sticking a mock diamond 
pin in his shirt, buttoned his coat tight round him, and 
putting his spectacle-case and handkerchief in his pockets, 
trotted up and down with a stick, in imitation of the manner 
in which old gentlemen walk about the streets. Sometimes 
he stopped at the fire-place, and sometimes at the door, making 
believe that he was staring with all his might into shop 
windows. At such times he would look constantly round 
him, for fear of thieves, and would keep slapping all his 
pockets in turn, to see that he had n't lost anything, in such 
a very funny and natural manner, that Oliver laughed till 
the tears ran down his face. 

All this time, the two boys followed him closely about ; 
getting out of his sight so nimbly, that it was impossible to 
follow their motions. At last, the Dodger trod upon his toes 
accidentally, while Charley Bates stumbled up against him 
behind ; and in that one moment they took from him, with 
the most extraordinary rapidity, snuff-box, note-case, watch- 
guard, chain, shirt-pin, pocket-handkerchief — even the spec- 
tacle-case. If the old gentleman felt a hand in one of his 
pockets, he cried out where it was ; and then the game began 
all over again. 

20 



OLIVER TWIST 

When this game had been played a great many times, 
a couple of young women came in ; one of whom was named 
Bet, and the other Nancy, and afterwards Oliver discovered 
that they also were pupils of Fagin's as well as the boys. 

Later the young people went out, leaving Oliver alone with 
the Jew, who was pacing up and down the room. 

" Is my handkerchief hanging out of my pocket, my 
dear ? " said the Jew, stopping short, in front of Oliver. 

" Yes sir," said Oliver. 

" See if you can take it out, without my feeling it : as you 
saw them do when we were at play." 

Oliver held up the bottom of the pocket with one hand, 
as he had seen the Dodger hold it, and drew the handkerchief 
lightly out of it with the other. 

" Is it gone ? " cried the Jew. 

" Here it is, sir," said Oliver, showing it in his hand. 

" You 're a clever boy, my dear," said the playful old 
gentleman, patting Oliver on the head approvingly. " I 
never saw a sharper lad. Here's a shilling for you. If 
you go on in this way, you '11 be the greatest man of the 
time. And now come here, and I '11 show you how to take 
the marks out of the handkerchiefs." 

Oliver wondered what picking the old gentleman's pocket 
in play, had to do with his chances of being a great man. 
But, thinking that the Jew, being so much his senior, must 
know best, he followed him quietly to the table, and was 
soon deeply involved in his new study. 

For many days Oliver remained in the Jew's room, picking 
marks out of the pocket-handkerchiefs. But at length, he 
began to languish, and entreated Fagin to allow him to go 
out to work with his two companions. So, one morning, 
he obtained permission to go out, under the guardianship of 
Charley Bates and the Dodger. 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

The three boys sallied out; the Dodger with his coat- 
sleeves tucked up, and his hat cocked as usual; Master Bates 
sauntering along with his hands in his pockets ; and Oliver 
between them, wondering where they were going, and what 
branch of manufacture he would be instructed in, first. 

They were just emerging from a narrow court, when the 
Dodger made a sudden stop ; and, laying his finger on his lip, 
drew his companions back again with the greatest caution. 

" What 's the matter ? " demanded Oliver. 

"Hush!" replied the Dodger. "Do you see that old 
cove at the book-stall ? " 

" The old gentleman over the way ? " said Oliver. " Yes, 
I see him." 

" He '11 do," said the Dodger. 

" A prime plant," observed Master Charley Bates. 

Oliver looked from one to the other, with the greatest sur- 
prise ; but could not ask any questions, for the two boys walked 
stealthily across the road, and slunk close behind the old 
gentleman. Oliver walked a few paces behind them, looking 
on in silent amazement. 

The old gentleman had taken up a book from the stall ; 
and there he stood: reading away, perfectly absorbed, and 
saw not the book-stall, nor the street, nor the boys, nor 
anything but the book itself. What was Oliver's horror and 
alarm to see the Dodger plunge his hand into the old gentle- 
man's pocket, and draw from thence a handkerchief! To see 
him hand the same to Charley Bates ; and finally to behold 
them, both, running away round the corner at full speed ! 

In an instant the whole mystery of the handkerchiefs, and 
the watches, and the jewels, and the Jew, rushed upon the 
boy's mind. He stood, for a moment, with the blood tingling 
through all his veins from terror ; then, confused and fright- 
ened, he took to his heels. 

22 



OLIVER TWIST 

In the very instant when Oliver began to run, the old 
gentleman, putting his hand to his pocket, and missing his 
handkerchief, turned sharp round. Seeing the boy scudding 
away at such a rapid pace, he very naturally concluded him 
to be the depredator, and, shouting "Stop thief !" with all 
his might, made off after him, book in hand. The Dodger 
and Master Bates, who had merely retired into the first door- 
way round the corner, no sooner heard the cry, and saw Oliver 
running, than they issued forth with great promptitude; and, 
shouting, "Stop thief! Stop thief!" too, joined in the pursuit 
like good citizens. 

" Stop thief! " The cry is taken up by a hundred voices; 
the tradesman, the carman, the butcher, the baker, the milk- 
man, the school-boy, follow in hot pursuit. Away they run, 
pell-mell, helter-skelter, slap-dash : tearing, yelling : screaming, 
knocking down the passengers as they turn the corners, 
splashing through the mud, and rattling along the pavements, 
following after the wretched, breathless, panting child, gain- 
ing upon him every instant. Stopped at last ! A clever 
blow ! He is down upon the pavement, covered with mud 
and dust, looking wildly round upon the heap of faces that 
surround him. 

"Yes," said the old gentleman, "I am afraid that is the 
boy. Poor fellow ! he has hurt himself! " 

Just then a police officer appeared and dragged the half 
fainting boy off, the old gentleman walking beside him, 
Oliver protesting his innocence as they went. At the police 
station Oliver was searched in vain, and then locked in a 
cell for a time, while the old gentleman sat outside waiting, 
and read his book. Presently the boy was brought out 
before the Magistrate ; and the policeman and the old gentle- 
man preferred their 'charges against him. While the case 
was proceeding, Oliver fell to the floor in a fainting fit, and 

23 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

as he lay there the Magistrate uttered his penance, " He 
stands committed for three months of hard labour. Clear 
the office ! " A couple of men were about to carry the 
insensible boy to his cell, when an elderly man rushed hastily 
into the office. "Stop, stop!" he said. "Don't take him 
away ! I saw it all. I keep the book-stall. I saw three 
boys loitering on the opposite side of the way when this 
gentleman was reading. The robbery was committed by 
another boy. I saw it done; and I saw that this boy was 
perfectly amazed and stupified by it ! " 

Having by this time recovered a little breath, the book- 
stall keeper proceeded to relate in a more coherent manner 
the exact circumstances of the robbery, in consequence of 
which explanation Oliver Twist was discharged, and carried 
off, still white and faint, in a coach, by the kind-hearted old 
gentleman whose name was Brownlow, who seemed to feel 
himself responsible for the boy's condition, and resolved to 
have him cared for in his own home. 

After Charley Bates and the Dodger had seen Oliver 
dragged away by the police officer, they scoured off with 
great rapidity. Coming to a halt Master Bates burst into 
an uncontrollable fit of laughter. 

" What 's the matter ? " inquired the Dodger. 

" I can't help it," said Charley, " I can't help it ! To 
see him splitting away at that pace, and cutting round the 
corners, and knocking up against the posts, and starting on 
again as if he was made of iron, and me with the wipe in 
my pocket, singing out arter him — oh, my eye!" The 
vivid imagination of Master Bates presented the scene before 
him in too strong colours, and he rolled upon a door-step 
and laughed louder than before. 

"What '11 Fagin say ?" inquired the Dodger, and the 
question sobered Master Bates at once, as both boys stood 

24 



OLIVER TWIST 

in great dread of the Jew. And their worst fears were 
realised. Fagin was livid with rage at the loss of his promis- 
ing pupil, as well as fearful of the disclosures he might 
make. After long consultation on the subject, it was 
agreed by the band that Nancy was to go to the police 
station in a disguised dress, to find out what had been done 
with Oliver, for whom she was to search as her " dear little 
lost brother." 

Meanwhile Oliver lay for many days burning with fever 
and unconscious of his surroundings, in the quietly comfortable 
home of Mr. Brownlow at Pentonville. At length, weak, and 
thin, and pallid, he awoke from what seemed a dream, and 
found himself being nursed by Mrs. Bedwin, Mr. Brownlow's 
motherly old house-keeper, and visited constantly by the 
doctor. Gradually he grew stronger, and soon could sit up 
a little. Those were happy, peaceful days of his recovery, the 
only happy ones he had ever known. Everybody was so kind 
and gentle that it seemed like Heaven itself, as he sat by the 
fireside in the house-keeper's room. On the wall hung a por- 
trait of a beautiful, mild, lady with sorrowful eyes, of which 
Oliver was the living copy. Every feature was the same — to 
Mr. Brownlow's intense astonishment, as he gazed from it to 
Oliver. 

Later, Oliver heard the history of the portrait and his own 
connection with it. 

When he was strong enough to put his clothes on, Mr. 
Brownlow caused a complete new suit, and a new cap, and a 
new pair of shoes, to be provided for him. Oliver gave his 
old clothes to one of the servants who had been kind to him, 
and she sold them to a Jew who came to the house. 

One evening Mr. Brownlow sent up word to have Oliver 
come down into his study and see him for a little while, — 
so Mrs. Bedwin helped him to prepare himself, and although 

25 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

there was not even time to crimp the little frill that bordered 
his shirt-collar, he looked so delicate and handsome, that 
she surveyed him with great complacency. 

Mr. Brownlow was reading, but when he saw Oliver, he 
pushed the book away, and told him to come near, and sit 
down, which Oliver did. Then the old gentleman began to 
talk kindly of what Oliver's future was to be. Instantly 
the boy. became pallid with fright, and implored Mr. Brown- 
low to let him stay with him, as a servant, as anything, 
only not to send him out into the streets again, and the old 
gentleman, touched by the appeal, assured the boy that unless 
he should deceive him, he would be his faithful friend. 
He then asked Oliver to relate the whole story of his life, 
which he was beginning to do when an old friend of Mr. 
Brownlow's — a Mr. Grimwig, — entered. 

He was an eccentric old man, and was loud in his excla- 
mations of distrust in this boy whom Mr. Brownlow was 
harbouring. 

cc F 11 answer for that boy's truth with my life ! " said 
Mr. Brownlow, knocking the table. 

" And I for his falsehood with my head ! " rejoined Mr. 
Grimwig, knocking the table also. 

"We shall see!" said Mr. Brownlow, checking his rising 
anger. 

"We will!" said Mr. Grimwig, with a provoking smile; 
" we will." 

Just then Mrs. Bedwin brought in some books which had 
been bought of the identical book stall-keeper who has already 
figured in this history. Mr. Brownlow was greatly disturbed 
that the boy who brought them had not waited, as there were 
some other books to be returned. 

"Send Oliver with them," suggested Mr. Grimwig, "he 
will be sure to deliver them safely, you know ! " 

26 



OLIVER TWIST 

" Yes ; do let me take them, if you please, sir," said Olivet. 
" I '11 run all the way, sir." 

Mr. Brownlow was about to refuse to have Oliver go 
out, when Mr. Grimwig's malicious cough made him change 
his mind, and let the boy go. 

" You are to say," said Mr. Brownlow, " that you have 
brought those books back ; and that you have come to pay 
the four pound ten I owe him. This is a five-pound note, 
so you will have to bring me back ten shilling change." 

" I won't be ten minutes, sir," replied Oliver, eagerly, as 
with a respectful bow he left the room. Mrs. Bedwin watched 
him out of sight exclaiming, "Bless his sweet face!"; — while 
Oliver looked gaily round, and nodded before he turned the 
corner. 

Then Mr. Brownlow drew out his watch and waited, while 
Mr. Grimwig asserted that the boy would never <be back. 
" He has a new suit of clothes on his back ; a set of valu- 
able books under his arm ; and a five-pound note in his pocket. 
He '11 join his old friends the thieves, and laugh at you. 
If ever that boy returns to this house, sir," said Mr. Grimwig, 
" I '11 eat my head ! " 

It grew so dark that the figures on the dial-plate were 
scarcely discernible. The gas lamps were lighted ; Mrs. 
Bedwin was waiting anxiously at the open door ; the servant 
had run up the street twenty times to see if there were 
any traces of Oliver ; and still the two old gentlemen sat, 
perseveringly, in the dark parlour, with the watch between 
them, waiting — but Oliver did not come. 

He meanwhile, had walked along, on his way to the 
bookstall, thinking how happy and contented he ought to 
feel, when he was startled by a young woman screaming out 
very loud, " Oh, my dear brother ! " — and then he was 
stopped by having a pair of arms thrown tight round his neck. 

27 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

" Don't ! " cried Oliver, struggling. " Let go of me. 
Who is it ? What are you stopping me for ? " 

" Oh my gracious ! " said the young woman, " I 've 
found him ! Oh you naughty boy, to make me suffer sich 
distress on your account ! Come home, dear, come ! " With 
these and more incoherent exclamations, the young woman 
burst out crying, and told the onlookers that Oliver was 
her brother, who had run away from his respectable parents 
a month ago, joined a gang of thieves and almost broke his 
mother's heart, — to which Oliver, greatly alarmed, replied 
that he was an orphan, had no sister, and lived at Pentonville. 
Then, catching sight of the woman's face for the first time, 
he cried, — " Why, it 's Nancy ! " 

" You see he knows me ! " cried Nancy. " Make him come 
home, there 's good people, or he '11 kill his dear mother 
and father, and break my heart ! " With this a man who was 
Nancy's accomplice, Bill Sikes by name, came to the rescue, 
tore the volumes from Oliver's grasp, and struck him on the 
head. Weak still, and stupified by the suddenness of the 
attack, overpowered and helpless, what could one poor child 
do ? Darkness had set in ; it was a low neighbourhood ; 
no help was near — resistance was useless. In another moment 
he was dragged into a labyrinth of dark narrow courts : and 
was forced along them, at a pace which rendered the few cries 
he dared to give utterance to, unintelligible. 

At length they turned into a very filthy street, and stopped 
at an apparently untenanted house into which Bill Sikes and 
Nancy led Oliver, and there, were his old friends, Charley 
Bates, the Dodger, and Fagin. 

They greeted Oliver with cheers, and at once rifled his 
pockets of the five-pound note, and relieved him of the 
books, — although Oliver pleaded that the books and money 
be sent back to Mr. Brownlow. When he found that all 

28 



OLIVER TWIST 

pleading and resistance were useless, he jumped suddenly to 
his feet and tore wildly from the room, uttering shrieks for 
help which made the bare old house echo to the roof, and 
then attempted to dart through the door, opened for a 
moment, but he was instantly caught, while Sikes' dog would 
have sprung upon him, except for Nancy's intervention. 
She was struck with Oliver's pallor and great grief and tried 
to shield him from violence. But it was of little avail. He 
was beaten by the Jew, and then led off by Master Bates 
into an adjacent kitchen to go to bed. His new clothes were 
taken from him and he was given the identical old suit 
which he had so congratulated himself upon leaving off at 
Mr. Brownlow's, and the accidental display of which to Fagin, 
by the Jew who purchased them, had been the first ckie to 
Oliver's whereabouts. 

For a week or so the boy was kept locked up, but after 
that the Jew left him at liberty to wander about the house ; 
which was a weird, ghostlike place, with the mouldering 
shutters fast closed, and no evidence from outside that 
it sheltered human creatures. Oliver was constantly with 
Charley Bates and the Dodger, who played the old game 
with the Jew every day. At times Fagin entertained the 
boys with stories of robberies he had committed in his 
younger days, which made Oliver laugh heartily, and show 
that he was amused in spite of his better feelings. In short, 
the wily old Jew had the boy in his toils, and hoped gradually 
to instil into his soul the poison which would blacken it and 
change its hue forever. 

Meanwhile Fagin, Bill Sikes, and Nancy were arranging 
a plot in which poor Oliver was to play a notable part. 
One morning he found to his surprise, a pair of stout new 
shoes by his bedside, and at breakfast Fagin told him that 
he was to be taken to the residence of Bill Sikes that night, 

29 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

but no reason for this was given. Fagin then left him and 
presently Nancy came in, looking pale and ill. She came 
from Sikes to take Oliver to him. Her countenance was 
agitated and she trembled. 

" I have saved you from being ill-used once, and I will 
again ; and I do now," she said, " for those who would 
have fetched you if I had not, would have been far more 
rough than me. Remember this, and don't let me suffer 
more for you just now. If I could help you, I would ; 
but I have not the power. I have promised for your being 
quiet ; if you are not, you will harm youself and perhaps be 
my death. Hush ! Give me your hand ! Make haste ! " 

Blowing out the light, she drew Oliver hastily after her, 
out, and into a hackney-cabriolet. The driver wanted no 
directions, but lashed his horse into full speed, and pre- 
sently they were in a strange house. There, with Nancy 
and Sikes, Oliver remained until an early hour the next 
morning, when the three set out, whither or for what Oliver 
did not know, but before they started Sikes drew out a pistol, 
and holding it close to Oliver's temple said, " If you speak 
a word while you 're out of doors, with me, except when 
I speak to you, that loading will be in your head without 
notice ! " And Oliver did not doubt the statement. 

In the gray dawn of a cheerless morning the trio started 
off, and by continual tramping, and an occasional lift from 
a carter reached a public house where they lingered for 
some hours, and then went on, again until the next night. 
They turned into no house at Shepperton, as the weary 
boy had expected ; but still kept walking on, in mud and 
darkness, until they came in sight of the lights of a town. 
Then they stopped for a -time at a solitary, dilapidated 
house, where they were met by other men. The party 
then crossed a bridge and were soon in the little town of 

30 



OLIVER TWIST 

Chertsey. There was nobody abroad. They had cleared the 
town as the church-bell struck two. After walking about 
a quarter of a mile, they stopped before a detached house 
surrounded by a wall : to the top of which one of the men, 
Toby Crackit, climbed in a twinkling. 

" The boy next ! " said Toby. " Hoist him up; I '11 catch 
hold of him." 

Before Oliver had time to look round, Sikes had caught 
him under the arms ; and he and Toby were lying on the 
grass, on the other side of the wall. Sikes followed, and they 
stole towards the house. Now, for the first time Oliver real- 
ised that robbery, if not murder, was the object of the expe- 
dition. In vain he pleaded that they let him go, — he was 
answered only by oaths, while the robbers were busy open- 
ing a little window not far from the ground at the back 
of the house, which was just large enough to admit Oliver. 
Toby planted himself firmly with his head against the wall 
beneath the window, then Sikes, mounting upon him, put 
Oliver through the window with his feet first, and without 
leaving hold of his collar, planted him safely . on the floor 
inside. 

" Take this lantern," whispered Sikes, looking into the 
room, " You see the stairs afore you ; go up softly and un- 
fasten the street door." 

Oliver, more dead than alive gasped out, cc Yes." Sikes 
then advised him to take notice that he was within shot all the 
way ; and that if he faltered, he would fall dead that instant. 

" It 's done in a minute," said Sikes. " Directly I leave 
go of you, do your work. Hark ! " 

" What 's that ? " whispered the other man. 

" Nothing," said Sikes, — " Now! " 

In the short time he had to collect his senses, Oliver 
had resolved that, whether he died in the attempt or not, 

31 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

he would make one effort to dart up stairs and to alarm 
the family. Filled with this idea, he advanced at once, but 
stealthily. 

" Come back ! " suddenly cried Sikes aloud. "Back ! 
Back!" 

Scared by the sudden breaking of the stillness and by 
a loud cry which followed it, Oliver let his lantern fall and 
knew not whether to advance or fly. The cry was repeated - — 
a light appeared — a vision of two terrified half-dressed men 
at the top of the stairs swam before his eyes — a flash — 
a smoke — a crash somewhere, — and he staggered back. 

Sikes had disappeared for an instant; but he was up 
again, and had Oliver by the collar before the smoke had 
cleared away. He fired his pistol after the men, and dragged 
the boy up. * 

<c Clasp your arm tighter," said Sikes, as he drew him 
through the window. " Give me a shawl here. They Ve 
hit him. Quick! How the boy bleeds !" 

Then came the loud ringing of a bell, mingled with the 
noise of fire-arms, the shouts of men, and the sensation of 
being carried over uneven ground at a rapid pace. Then 
the noises grew confused in the distance ; and the boy saw 
or heard no more. Bill Sikes had him on his back scudding 
like the wind. Oliver's head hung down, and he was deadly 
cold. The pursuers were close upon Sikes' heels. He 
dropped the boy in a ditch and fled. 

Hours afterwards Oliver came to himself, and found his 
left arm rudely bandaged hung useless at his side. He was 
so weak that he could scarcely move. Trembling from cold 
and exhaustion he made an effort to stand upright, but fell 
back, groaning with pain. Then a creeping stupor came 
over him, warning him that if he lay there he must surely 
die. So he got upon his feet, and stumbling on, dizzy and 

32 



OLIVER TWIST 

half unconscious, drew near to the very house which caused 
him to shudder with horror at the memory of last night's 
dreadful scene. 

Within, in the kitchen all the servants were gathered round 
the fire discussing the attempted burglary. While Mr. Giles, 
the butler, was giving his version of the affair, there came 
a timid knock. They opened the door cautiously and beheld 
poor little Oliver Twist, speechless and exhausted, who 
raised his heavy eyes and mutely solicited their compassion. 
Instantly there was an outcry, and Oliver was seized by one 
leg and one arm, lugged into the hall, and laid on the floor. 
" Here he is ! " bawled Giles up the staircase ; " here 's 
one of the thieves, ma'am ! Here 's a thief, miss ! Wounded, 
miss. I shot him, miss ; and Brittles held the light ! " 
There was great confusion then, all the servants talking at 
once, but the sound of a sweet voice from above quelled 
the commotion. On learning that a wounded thief was lying 
in the house, the voice directed that he be instantly carried 
up-stairs to the room of Mr. Giles, and a doctor be sum- 
moned ; and so for the second time in his short, tragic 
existence, Oliver fell into kind hands at a moment when all 
hope had left his breast. He was now in the home of Mrs. 
Maylie, a finely preserved, bright-eyed, elderly lady, and her 
fair young adopted niece, Rose. 

The attempted burglary had greatly shocked them both, 
and the fact that one of the robbers was in the house added 
to their nervousness. So when Dr. Losberne came, and 
begged them to accompany him to the patient's room, they 
dreaded to comply with the request, but finally yielded to 
his demand. What was their astonishment when the bed- 
curtains were drawn aside, instead of a black-visaged ruffian, 
to see a mere child, worn with pain, and sunk into a deep 
sleep. His wounded arm bound and splintered up, was 
3 33 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

crossed upon his breast. His head reclined upon the other 
arm, which was half hidden by his long hair, as it streamed 
over the pillow. The boy smiled in his sleep as at a pleasant 
dream, when Rose bent tenderly over him, while the older lady 
and the Doctor discussed the probability of the child's having 
been the tool of robbers. Fearing that the doctor might 
influence her aunt to send the boy away, Rose pleaded 
that he be kept and cared for; it was finally decided that 
when Oliver awoke he should be examined as to his past 
life, and if the result seemed satisfactory, he should remain. 
But not until evening was he able to be questioned. He 
then told them all his simple history. It was a solemn thing 
to hear the feeble voice of the sick child recounting a weary 
catalogue of evils and calamities which hard men had brought 
upon him, and his hearers were profoundly moved by the 
recital. His pillow was smoothed by gentle hands that night 
and he slept as sleep the calm and happy. 

On the following day, officers who had heard of the 
burglary, and that a thief was prisoner in the Maylie house, 
came from London to arrest him, but Dr. Losberne and 
Mrs. Maylie shielded him, and their joint bail was accepted 
for the boy's appearance in court if it should ever be 
required. 

With the Maylies Oliver remained, and thanks to their 
tender care, gradually throve and prospered, although it was 
long weeks before he was quite himself again. Many times 
he spoke to the two sweet ladies of his gratitude to them, 
saying that he only desired to serve them always. To this 
they responded that he should go with them to the country, 
and there could serve them in a hundred ways. 

Only one cloud was on Oliver's sky. He longed to go 
to Mr. Brownlow and tell him the true story of his seem- 
ing ingratitude. So as soon as he was sufficiently recovered, 

34 



OLIVER TWIST 

Dr. ' Losberne drove him out to the place where he said 
Mr. Brownlow resided. They hastened to the house, but .alas ! 
it was empty. There was a bill in the window, " To Let " 
and upon inquiring, they found that Mr. Brownlow, Mr. 
Grimwig, and Mrs. Bedwin had gone to the West Indies. 

The disappointment was a cruel one, for all through his 
sickness Oliver had anticipated the delight of seeing his first 
benefactor, and clearing himself of guilt, but now that was 
impossible. 

In a fortnight the Maylies went to the country, and 
Oliver, whose life had been spent in squalid crowds, seemed 
to enter on a new existence there. The sky and the balmy 
air, the woods and glistening water, the rose and honeysuckle,, 
were each a daily joy to him. Every morning he went to 
a white-haired old gentleman who taught him to read better 
and to write, then he would walk and talk with Rose and 
Mrs. Maylie, and so three happy months glided away. 

In the summer Rose was taken down with a terrible fever, 
and anxiety hung like a cloud over the cottage where she 
was so dear, but at length the danger passed and the loving 
hearts grew lighter again. 

Meanwhile a man named Monks, — a friend of Fagin's 
— had by chance seen Oliver, had been strangely excited and 
angered at sight of him, and after carefully learning some 
details of the boy's history, had gone to the beadle at the 
workhouse where Oliver began life, and by dint of bribes, 
had extorted information concerning Oliver's mother, which 
only one person knew. Satisfied with what he learned, Monks 
conferred with Fagin, telling some facts about Oliver which 
caused Nancy, who happened to overhear them, to become 
terror-stricken. 

As soon as she could, she stole away from her companions, 
out towards the West End of London, to a hotel where the 

35 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

Maylies were then boarding, and which she had heard Monks 
mention. Nancy was such a ragged object that she found 
it difficult to have her name carried up to Rose Maylie, but 
at length she succeeded, and was ushered into the sweet 
young lady's presence, where she quickly related what she 
had come to tell. That Monks had accidentally seen Oliver, 
and found out where he was living, and with whom ; — that 
a bargain had been struck with Fagin that he should have 
a certain sum of money if Oliver were brought back, and a 
still larger amount if the boy could be made a thief. Nancy 
then went on to tell that Monks spoke of Oliver as his 
young brother, and boasted that the proofs of the boy's 
identity lay at the bottom of the river — that he, Monks, 
had money which by right should have been shared with 
Oliver, and that his one desire was to take the boy's life. 

These disclosures made Rose Maylie turn pale, and ask 
many questions, from which she discovered that Nancy's 
confession was actuated by a real liking for Oliver and a fierce 
hatred for the man Monks. Her tale finished, and refusing 
money, or help of any kind, Nancy went as swiftly as she 
had come, and when she left, Rose sank into a chair com- 
pletely overcome by what she had heard. 

Of course the matter was too serious to pass over, and 
the next day, as Rose was trying to decide upon a course 
of action, Oliver settled it for her, by rushing in with breath- 
less haste, and exclaiming, " I have seen the gentleman — the 
gentleman who was so good to me — Mr. Brownlow ! " 

" Where ? " asked Rose. 

cc Going into a house," replied Oliver. " And Giles asked, 
for me, whether he lived there, and they said he did. Look 
here," producing a scrap of paper, "here it is; here's where 
he lives — I 'm going there directly ! OH, DEAR ME ! dear 
me ! what shall I do when I come to hear him speak again ! " 

3* 



OLIVER TWIST 

With her attention not a little distracted by these excla- 
mations of joy, an idea came to Rose, and she determined upon 
turning this discovery to account. 

" Quick ! " she said, " tell them to fetch a hackney-coach, 
and be ready to go with me. I will take you to see Mr. 
Brownlow directly." 

Oliver needed no urging and they were soon on their 
way to Craven Street. When they arrived, Rose left Oliver 
in the coach, and sending up her card, requested to see 
Mr. Brownlow on business. She was shown up stairs, and 
presented to Mr. Brownlow, an elderly gentleman of benevo- 
lent appearance, in a bottle-green coat, and with him was his 
friend, Mr. Grimwig. Rose began at once upon her errand, to 
the great amazement of the two old gentlemen. She related in 
a few natural words all that had befallen Oliver since he left 
Mr. Brownlow's house, concluding with the assurance that 
his only sorrow for many months had been the not being able 
to meet with his former benefactor and friend. 

"Thank God!" said Mr. Brownlow. "This is great 
happiness to me ; great happiness ! But why not have 
brought him ? " . 

" He is waiting in a coach at the door," replied Rose. 

" At this door ! " cried Mr. Brownlow. With which he 
hurried down the stairs, without another word, and came back 
with Oliver. Then Mrs. Bedwin was sent for. " God be 
good to me ! " she cried, embracing him ; "it is my innocent 
boy ! He would come back — I knew he would ! How well 
he looks, and how like a gentleman's son he is dressed again ! 
Where have you been, this long, long while ? " 

Running on thus, — now holding Oliver from her, 
now clasping him to her and passing her fingers through 
his hair, the good soul laughed and wept upon his neck by 
turns. 

37 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

Leaving Oliver with her, Mr. Brownlow led Rose into 
another room, by her request, and she narrated her interview 
with Nancy, which occasioned Mr. Brownlow no small amount 
of perplexity and surprise. After a long consultation they 
decided to take Mrs. Maylie and Dr. Losberne into their 
confidence, also Mr. Grimwig, thus forming a committee for 
the purpose of guarding the young lad from further entangle- 
ment in the plots of villains. 

Through Nancy, with whom Rose had another interview, 
the man Monks was tracked, and finally captured by Mr. 
Brownlow, who to his sorrow, found that the villain was 
the erring son of his oldest friend, and his name of Monks 
only an assumed one. Facing him in a room of his own 
house, to which Monks had been brought, — Mr. Brownlow 
charged the man with one crime after another. 

The father of Monks had two children who were half 
brothers, Monks and Oliver Twist. The father died sud- 
denly, leaving in Mr. Brownlow's home the portrait of 
Oliver's mother, which was hanging in the house-keeper's 
room. The striking likeness between this portrait and Oliver 
had led Mr. Brownlow to recognise the boy as the child of his 
dear old friend. Then, just when he had determined to adopt 
Oliver, the boy had disappeared, and all efforts to find him 
had proved unavailing. Mr. Brownlow knew that, although 
the mother and father were dead, the elder brother was alive, 
and at once commenced a search for him. Now he had dis- 
covered him in the man Monks, the friend of thieves and 
murderers, and by a chance clue he found also that there had 
been a will, dividing the property between the two brothers. 
That will had been destroyed, together with all proofs of 
Oliver's parentage, so that Monks might have the entire 
property. Fearing discovery, Monks had bargained with 
Fagin to keep the child a thief or to kill him outright. 

38 



OLIVER TWIST 

This revelation of his crime in all its terrible details, told 
in clear cutting tones by Mr. Brownlow, while his eyes never 
left the man's face, overwhelmed the coward Monks. He 
stood convicted, and confessed his guilt. 

Then, because the man was son of his old friend, Mr. 
Brownlow was merciful. 

"Will you set your hand to a statement of truth and 
facts, and repeat it before witnesses ? " he asked. 

" That I promise," said Monks. 

" Remain quietly here until such a document is drawn 
up, and proceed with me to such a place as I may deem 
advisable, to attest it ? " 

To this also Monks agreed. 

"You must do more than that," said Mr. Brownlow; 
" Make restitution to Oliver. You have not forgotten the 
provisions of the will. Carry them into execution so far 
as your brother is concerned, and then go where you please. 
In this world you need meet no more." 

To this also, at length Monks gave fearing assent. 

A few days later Oliver found himself in a travelling 
carriage rolling fast towards his native town, with the Maylies, 
Mrs. Bedwin, Dr. Losberne, and Mr. Grimwig, while Mr. 
Brownlow followed in a post-chaise with Monks. 

Oliver was much excited, for he had been told of the 
disclosures of Monks, which, together with journeying over 
a road which he had last travelled on foot, a poor houseless, 
wandering boy, without a friend, or a roof to shelter his 
head, caused his heart to beat violently and his breath to 
come in quick gasps. 

" See there, there ! " he cried, " that 's the stile I came 
over ; there are the hedges I crept behind, for fear anyone 
should overtake me and force me back ! " 

As they approached the town, and drove through its 

39 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

narrow streets, it became matter of no small difficulty to 
restrain the boy within reasonable bounds. There was the 
undertakers just as it used to be, only less imposing in 
appearance than he remembered it. There was the work- 
house, the dreary prison of his youthful days ; there was the 
same lean porter standing at the gate. There was nearly 
everything as if he had left it but yesterday, and all his recent 
life had been a happy dream. 

They drove at once to the hotel where Mr. Brownlow 
joined them with Monks, and there in the presence of the 
whole party, the wretched man made his full confession of 
guilt, and surrendered one half of the property — about three 
thousand pounds — to his half-brother, upon whom even as he 
spoke, he cast looks of hatred so violent that Oliver trembled. 
From some details of his confession it was also discovered 
that Rose Maylie, who was only an adopted niece of Mrs. 
Maylie, had been the sister of Oliver's mother, and was there- 
fore the boy's aunt, the first blood relation, except Monks, 
that he had ever possessed. 

" Not aunt," cried Oliver, throwing his arms about her 
neck, " I '11 never call her aunt. Sister, my own, dear 
sister, that something taught my heart to love so dearly 
from the first, Rose ! dear, darling Rose ! " And in Rose's 
close embrace, the boy found compensation for all his past 
sadness. 

The only link to his old life which remained was soon 
broken. Fagin had been captured too, sentenced to death, and 
was in prison awaiting the fulfilment of his doom. In his pos- 
session he had papers relating to Oliver's parentage, and the 
boy went with Mr. Brownlow to the prison to try to recover 
them. With Mr. Brownlow, Fagin was obstinately silent, but 
to Oliver he whispered where they could be found, and then 
begged and prayed the boy to help him escape justice, and 

40 



OLIVER TWIST 

sent up cry after cry that rang in Oliver's ears for months 
afterwards. 

But youth and sorrow are seldom companions for long, 
and our last glimpse of Oliver is of a boy as thoroughly happy 
as one often is. He is now the adopted son of the good 
Mr. Brownlow. Removing with him and Mrs. Bedwin to 
within a mile of the Maylies' home, Mr. Brownlow gratified 
the only remaining wish of Oliver's warm and earnest heart, 
and as the happy days go swiftly by, the past becomes the 
shadow of a dream. 

Several times a year Mr. Grimwig visits in the neighbour- 
hood, and it is a favourite joke for Mr. Brownlow to rally him 
on his old prophecy concerning Oliver, and to remind him 
of the night on which they sat with the watch between them 
awaiting his return. But Mr. Grimwig contends that he was 
right in the main, and in proof thereof remarks that Oliver 
did not come back after all, — which always calls forth a laugh 
on his side, and increases his good humour. 



41 



TOMMY TRADD LES 



43 




Tommy Traddles. 



TOMMY TRADDLES 



POOR T raddles ! In a tight sky-blue suit that made 
his arms and legs like German sausages, or roly- 
poly puddings, and with his hair standing upright, 
giving him the expression of a fretful porcupine, he 
was the merriest and most miserable of all the boys at Mr. 
Creakle's school, called Salem House. I never think of him 
without a strange disposition to laugh, and yet with tears in 
my eyes. 

He was always being caned — I think he was caned every 
day in the half-year I spent at Salem House, except one holi- 
day Monday when he was only ruler'd on both hands — and 
was always going to write to his uncle about it, and never did. 
After laying his head on the desk for a little while, he would 
cheer up somehow, begin to laugh again, and draw skeletons 
all over his slate, before his eyes were dry. I used at first to 
wonder what comfort Traddles found in drawing skeletons ; 
and for some time looked upon him as a sort of a hermit, 
who reminded himself by those symbols of mortality that 
caning could n't last for ever. But I believe he only did it 
because they were easy, and did n't want any features. 

He was very honourable, Traddles was; and held it as 
a solemn duty in the boys to stand by one another. He 
suffered for this code of honour on several occasions. One 
evening we had a great spread up in our room after time 
for lights to be down, and we all got happily out of it but 
Traddles. He was too unfortunate even to come through 
a supper like anybody else. He was taken ill in the night — 
quite prostrate he was — in consequence of Crab ; and after 

45 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

being drugged to an extent which Demple (whose father was 
a doctor) said was enough to undermine a horse's constitution, 
received a caning and six chapters of Greek Testament for 
refusing to confess. 

At another time, when Steerforth (who was the only parlour- 
boarder and the lion of the school) laughed in church, the 
Beadle, who thought the offender was Traddles, took him out. 
I see him now, going away in custody, despised by the congre- 
gation. He never said who was the real offender, although 
he smarted for it next day, and was imprisoned so many 
hours that he came forth with a whole churchyardful of skele- 
tons swarming all over his Latin dictionary. But he had his 
reward. Steerforth said there was nothing of the sneak in 
Traddles, and we all felt that to be the highest praise. 

On still a third occasion during my half-year at Salem 
House I have a vivid recollection of Traddles in distress ; 
that time for siding with the down-trodden under-teacher, Mr. 
Mell, in a heated discussion between that gentleman and 
Steerforth. 

The discussion tbok place on a Saturday which should 
have properly been a half-holiday, but as Mr. Creakle was 
indisposed, and the noise in the playground would have dis- 
turbed him; and the weather was not favourable for going 
out walking, we were ordered into school in the afternoon, 
and set some lighter tasks than usual ; and Mr. Mell, a pale, 
delicately-built, little man, was detailed to keep us in order, 
which he tried in vain to accomplish. 

Boys started in and out of their places, playing at puss-in- 
the-corner with other boys ; there were laughing boys, singing 
boys, talking boys, dancing boys, howling boys; boys shuffled 
with their feet, boys whirled about him, grinning, making faces, 
mimicking him behind his back and before his eyes : mimick- 
ing his poverty, his boots, his coat, his mother, every thing be- 

46 



TOMMY TRADDLES 

longing to him that they should have had consideration 
for. 

" Silence ! " cried Mr. Mell, suddenly rising up, and strik- 
ing his desk with the book. " What does this mean ! It 's 
impossible to bear it. It 's maddening. How can you do 
it to me, boys ? " 

The boys all stopped, some suddenly surprised, some half 
afraid, and some sorry perhaps. 

Steerforth alone remained in his lounging position, hands 
in his pockets, and looked at Mr. Mell with his mouth shut 
up as if he were whistling, when Mr. Mell looked at him. 

" Silence, Mr. Steerforth ! " said Mr. Mell. 

" Silence yourself," said Steerforth, turning red. " Whom 
are you talking to ? " 

" Sit down ! " said Mr. Mell. 

"Sit down yourself!" said Steerforth, "and mind your 
business." 

There was a titter and some applause; but Mr. Mell was 
so white, that silence immediately succeeded. 

" When you make use of your position of favouritism, 
here, sir," pursued Mr. Mell, with his lip trembling very 
much, " to insult a gentleman — " 

" A what? — where is he ? " said Steerforth. 

Here somebody cried out, " Shame, J. Steerforth ! Too 
bad ! " It was Traddles ; whom Mr. Mell instantly discom- 
fited by bidding him to hold his tongue, — 

" — to insult one who is not fortunate in life, sir, and who 
never gave you the least offence, and the many reasons for 
not insulting whom you are old enough and wise enough to 
understand," said Mr. Mell, with his lip trembling more and 
more, " you commit a mean and base action. You can sit 
down or stand up as you please, sir." 

" I tell you what, Mr. Mell," said Steerforth, coming for- 

47 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

ward, "once for all. When you take the liberty of calling me 
mean or base, or anything of that sort, you are an impudent 
beggar. You are always a beggar, you know ; but when you 
do that, you are an impudent beggar." 

Had Mr. Creakle not entered the room at that moment, 
there is no knowing what might have happened, for the highest 
pitch of excitement had been reached by combatants and 
lookers-on. 

Both Steerforth and the under-teacher at once turned 
to Mr. Creakle, pouring out in his attentive ear the story 
of the burning wrong to which each had subjected the other, 
and the end of the whole affair was that Mr. Mell — having 
discovered that Mr. Creakle's veneration for money, and fear 
of offending his head-pupil, far outweighed any consideration 
for the teacher's feelings, — taking his flute and a few 
books from his desk, and leaving the key in it for his 
successor, went out of the school, with his property under 
his arm. 

Mr. Creakle then made a speech, in which he thanked 
Steerforth for asserting (though perhaps too warmly) the 
independence and respectability of Salem House ; and which 
he wound up by shaking hands with Steerforth ; while we 
gave three cheers — I did not quite know what for, but I 
supposed for Steerforth, and joined in them, though I felt 
miserable. Mr. Creakle then caned Tommy Traddles for 
being discovered in tears, instead of cheers, and went away 
leaving us to ourselves. 

Steerforth was very angry with Traddles, and said he was 
glad he had caught it. Poor Traddles, who had passed the 
stage of lying with his head upon the desk, and was relieving 
himself as usual with a burst of skeletons, said he did n't care. 
Mr. Mell was ill-used. 

" Who has ill-used him, you girl ? " said Steerforth. 

48 



TOMMY TRADDLES 

"Why, you have;" returned Traddles. 

"What have I done? " said Steerforth. 

"What have you done?" retorted Traddles. "Hurt his 
feelings and lost him his situation." 

"His feelings!" repeated Steerforth, disdainfully. "His 
feelings will soon get the better of it, I '11 be bound. His 
feelings are. not like yours, Miss Traddles ! As to his situa- 
tion — which was a precious one, was n't it ? — do you suppose 
I am not going to write home and take care that he gets some 
money ? " 

We all thought this intention very noble in Steerforth, 
whose mother was a rich widow, and, it was said, would do 
anything he asked her. We were all very glad to see Trad- 
dles so put down, and exalted Steerforth to the skies, and 
none of us appreciated at that time that our hero, J. Steerforth 
was very, very small indeed, as to character, in comparison 
to funny, unfortunate Tommy Traddles. 

Years later, when Salem House was only a memory, and 
we were both men, Traddles and I met again. He had the 
same simple character and good temper as of old, and had, too, 
some of his old unlucky fortune, which clung to him always ; 
yet notwithstanding that — as all of his trouble came from 
good-natured meddling with other people's affairs, for their 
benefit, I am not at all certain that I would not risk my 
chance of success — in the broadest meaning of that word — 
in the next world surely, if not in this, against all the Steer- 
forths living, if I were Tommy Traddles. 

Poor Traddles? — No, happy Traddles ! 



49 



"DEPUTY" 



51 




Deputy. 



"DEPUTY" 



THEY were certainly the very oddest pair that ever 
the moon shone on, — Stony Durdles and the boy 
"Deputy." 

Durdles was a stone-mason, from which occupa- 
tion, undoubtedly, came his nickname " Stony," and Deputy 
was a hideous small boy hired by Durdles to pelt him home 
if he found him out too late at night, which duty the boy 
faithfully performed. In all the length and breadth of Clois- 
terham there was no more noted man than the stone-mason, 
Durdles, not, I regret to say, on account of his virtues, but 
rather because of his talent for remaining out late at night, 
and not being able to guide his steps homeward. There is 
a coarser term which might have been applied to this talent 
of Durdles, but we have nothing to do with that, here and 
now; what we desire is an introduction to the small boy who 
is Durdles's shadow. 

One night, John Jasper, choir-master in Cloisterham 
Cathedral, on his way home through the Close, is brought 
to a standstill by the spectacle of Stony Durdles, dinner-bundle 
and all, leaning against the iron railing of the burial-ground, 
while a hideous small boy in rags flings stones at him, in 
the moonlight. Sometimes the stones hit him, and sometimes 
they miss him, but Durdles seems indifferent to either fortune. 
The hideous small boy, on the contrary, whenever he hits 
Durdles, blows a whistle of triumph through a jagged gap 
in the front of his mouth, where half his teeth are wanting ; 
and whenever he misses him, yelps out, " Mulled agin ! " 

53 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

and tries to atone for the failure by taking a more correct and 
vicious aim. 

" What are you doing to the man ? " demands Jasper. 

" Makin' a cock-shy of him," replies the hideous small 
boy. 

" Give me those stones in your hand." 

" Yes, I '11 give 'em you down your throat, if you come 
a ketchin' hold of me," says the small boy, shaking himself 
loose from Jasper's touch, and backing. " I '11 smash your eye 
if you don't look out ! " 

" What has the man done to you ? " 

" He won't go home." 

" What is that to you ? " 

" He gives me a 'apenny to pelt him home if I ketches 
him out too late," says the boy. And then chants, like 
a little savage, half stumbling, and half dancing, among the 
rags and laces of his dilapidated boots, — 

Widdy widdy wen I 

I — ket — ches — 'im out — ar — ter ten, 

Widdy widdy wy ! 

'Then — 9 E — don't — go — then — / shy, 

Widdy widdy Wakecock warning ! 

— with a sweeping emphasis on the last word, and one more 
shot at Durdles. The bit of doggerel is evidently a sign 
which Durdles understands to mean either that he must prove 
himself able to stand clear of the shots, or betake himself 
immediately homeward, but he does not stir. 

John Jasper crosses over to the railing where the Stony 
One is still profoundly meditating. 

<c Do you know this thing, this child ?" he asks. 

"Deputy," says Durdles, with a nod. 

" Is that its — his — name ? " 

54 



U D E P U T Y" 

" Deputy," assents Durdles, whereupon the small boy feels 
called upon to speak for himself. 

" I 'm man-servant up at the Travellers Twopenny in 
Gas Works Garding," he explains. "All us man-servants 
at Travellers Lodgings is named Deputy, but I never pleads 
to no name, mind yer. When they says to me in the Lockup, 
c What 's your name ? ' I says to 'em c find out.' Likewise 
when they says, c What 's your religion ? ' I says, 'find out' ! " 
After delivering himself of this speech, he withdraws into the 
road and taking aim, he resumes : — 

Widdy widdy wen ! 

I — ket — ches — J im — out — ar — ter — 

"Hold your hand ! " cries Jasper, "and don't throw 
while I stand so near him, or I '11 kill you ! Come Durdles, 
let me walk home with you to-night. Shall I carry your 
bundle ? " 

" Not on any account," replies Durdles, adjusting it, and 
continuing to talk in a rambling way, as he and Jasper walk 
on together. 

" This creature, Deputy, is behind us," says Jasper, look- 
ing back. " Is he to follow us ? " 

The relations between Durdles and Deputy seem to be 
of a capricious kind, for on Durdles turning to look at 
the boy, Deputy makes a wide circuit into the road and stands 
on the defensive. 

"You never cried Widdy Warning before you begun to- 
night," cries Durdles, unexpectedly reminded of, or imagining 
an injury. 

"Yer lie; I did," says Deputy, in his only polite form 
of contradiction, whereupon Durdles turns back again and 
forgets the offence as unexpectedly as he had recalled it, and 
says to Jasper, in reference to Deputy. 

55 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

" Own brother, sir, to Peter, the Wild Boy ! But I gave 
him an object in life." 

" At which he takes aim ? " Mr. Jasper suggests. 

" That is it, sir," returns Durdles ; " at which he takes 
aim. I took him in hand and gave him an object. What 
was he before ? A destroyer. What work did he do ? 
Nothing but destruction. What did he earn by it ? Short 
terms in Cloisterham jail. Not a person, not a piece of 
property, not a winder, not a horse, nor a. dog, nor a cat, nor 
a bird, nor a fowl, nor a pig, but that he stoned for want 
of an enlightened object. I put that enlightened object before 
him, and now he can turn his honest halfpenny by the three 
pennorth a week." 

" I wonder he has no competitors." 

" He has plenty, Mr. Jasper, but he stones 'em all 
away." 

"He still keeps behind us," repeats Jasper, looking back, 
" is he to follow us ? " 

" We can't help going round by the Travellers Twopenny, 
if we go the short way, which is the back way," Durdles 
answers, " and we '11 drop him there." 

So they go on ; Deputy attentive to every movement 
of the Stony One, until at length nearly at their destination 
Durdles whistles, and calls — " Holloa, you Deputy ! " 

" Widdy !" is Deputy's shrill response, standing off again. 
"Catch that ha'penny. And don't let me see any more of 
you to-night, after we come to the Travellers Twopenny." 

" Warning ! " returns Deputy, having caught the half- 
penny, and appearing by this mystic word to express his assent 
to the arrangement, then off he darts. 

Such was the occupation of the small boy, Deputy, night 
after night, week after week, month after month, during the 
year when we catch a glimpse of him, and it is reasonable 

56 



"DEPUTY" 

to suppose that the remainder of his life, after we lose sight 
of him was spent, in making a cock-shy of everything that 
came in his way, whether Durdles or inanimate objects. When 
he had nothing living to stone, I believe that he used to stone 
the dead, through the railing of the churchyard. He found 
this a relishing and piquing pursuit ; firstly, because their 
resting place is supposed to be sacred, and, secondly, because 
the tall headstones are sufficiently like themselves to justify 
the delicious fancy that they are hurt when hit. 

We have nothing told us to support the theory that 
Deputy's life ever changed in its routine of work, and I am 
sure you agree with me that there were never an odder pair 
than the two : Durdles, the stone-mason, and Deputy, his 
servant. 

Perhaps you will be in Cloisterham at some not far distant 
time ; if so, wander out at night in the old graveyard, when 
the moon is up, and in among the cathedral crypts, if you can 
gain access to them ; and see if from some shadowy corner 
of lane or building does not start out before you the wraith 
of the hideous small boy, Deputy, eluding your touch, and 
chanting as he dances in front of you the old song which was 
the badge of his office as the keeper of Durdles, — 

Widdy widdy wen! 

I — ket — ches — y im — out — ar — ter — ten, 

Widdy widdy wy / 

Then — y E — don't — go — then — / — shy> 

Widdy widdy Wakecock Warning! 



57 



DOTHEBOYS HALL 



59 



DOTHEBOYS HALL 



" M ^ DUCATION.— At Mr. Wackford Squeers's Aca- 
l~^ demy, Dotheboys Hall, at the delightful village 
m J of Dotheboys, near Greta Bridge in Yorkshire, 
" " r Youth are boarded, clothed, booked, furnished 
with pocket-money, provided with all necessaries, instructed 
in all languages living and dead, mathematics, orthography 
geometry, astronomy, trigonometry, the use of the globes, 
algebra, single stick (if required), writing, arithmetic, fortifi- 
cation, and every other branch of classical literature. Terms, 
twenty guineas per annum. No extras, no vacations, and diet 
unparalleled. Mr. Squeers is in town, and attends daily from 
one till four, at the Saracen's Head, Snow Hill. N. B. An 
able assistant wanted. Annual salary ^5. A Master of Arts 
would be preferred." 

When this advertisement in the " London Herald " came 
to the notice of Mr. Nicholas Nickleby, then in search of 
a position as teacher, it seemed to be the opening for which 
he was looking, and the next day he hastened to the Saracen's 
Head, Snow Hill, to have an interview with Mr. Wackford 
Squeers. 

Mr. Squeers's appearance was not prepossessing. He 
had but one eye, and the popular prejudice runs in favour 
of two. The blank side of his face was much wrinkled and 
puckered up, which gave him a very sinister appearance, 
especially when he smiled. His hair was very flat and shiny, 
save at the ends, where it was brushed stiffly up from a low 
protruding forehead, which assorted well with his harsh voice 

61 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

and coarse manner. He was about two or three and fifty, 
and a trifle below the middle size ; he wore a white necker- 
chief and a suit of scholastic black; but his coat sleeves being 
a great deal too long, and his trousers a great deal too short, 
he appeared ill at ease in his clothes. 

In the corner of the room with Mr. Squeers was a very- 
small deal trunk, tied round with a scanty piece of cord, and on 
the trunk was perched — his lace-up half-boots and corduroy 
trousers dangling in the air — a diminutive boy, with his 
shoulders drawn up to his ears, and his hands planted on his 
knees, who glanced timidly at the schoolmaster from time to 
time, with evident dread and apprehension, and at last gave a 
violent sneeze. 

" Halloa, sir ! " growled the schoolmaster, turning round. 
"What's that, sir?" 

" Nothing, please sir," said the little boy. 

" Nothing, sir ! " exclaimed Mr. Squeers. 

" Please, sir, I sneezed," rejoined the boy, trembling till the 
little trunk shook under him. 

" Oh ! sneezed, did you ? " retorted Mr. Squeers. " Then 
what did you say c nothing ' for, sir ? " ■ 

In default of a better answer to this question, the little boy 
screwed a couple of knuckles into each of his eyes and began 
to cry ; wherefore Mr. Squeers knocked him off the trunk 
with a blow on one side of his face, and knocked him on agam 
with a blow on the other. 

" Wait till I get you down into Yorkshire, my young gentle- 
man," said Mr. Squeers, " and then I '11 give you the rest. 
Will you hold that noise, sir ? " 

"Ye — ye — yes," sobbed the little boy, rubbing his face 
very hard. 

" Then do so at once, sir," said Squeers. " Do you 
hear ? " 

62 



DOTHEBOYS HALL 

As this admonition was accompanied with a threatening 
gesture, and uttered with a savage aspect, the little boy rubbed 
his face harder, and between alternately sniffing and choking, 
gave no further vent to his emotions. 

" Mr. Squeers," said the waiter, at this juncture ; " here 's a 
gentleman asking for you." 

" Show the gentleman in, Richard," replied Mr. Squeers, in 
a soft voice. " Put your handkerchief in your pocket, you 
little scoundrel, or I '11 murder you when the gentleman goes." 

The schoolmaster had scarcely uttered these words in a 
fierce whisper, when the stranger entered. Affecting not to 
see him, Mr. Squeers feigned to be intent upon mending a pen, 
and offering benevolent advice to his youthful pupil. 

" My dear child," said Mr. Squeers, " All people have their 
trials. This early trial of yours that is fit to make your little 
heart burst, and your very eyes come out of your head with 
crying, what is it ? Less than nothing. You are leaving your 
friends, but you will have a father in me, my dear, and a mother 
in Mrs. Squeers. At the delightful village of Dotheboys, near 
Greta Bridge in Yorkshire, where youth are boarded, clothed, 
booked, washed, furnished with pocket-money, provided with 
all necessaries — " 

Here the waiting stranger interrupted with inquiries about 
sending his boys to Mr. Squeers, and before he and Mr. Squeers 
had finished their talk, Nicholas Nickleby entered. He briefly 
stated his desire for a position, his having seen Mr. Squeers's 
" Herald" advertisement, and, after more or less questioning and 
examination from the schoolmaster, Nicholas was engaged as 
assistant master for Dotheboys Hall, and it was settled that he 
was to go by coach with Mr. Squeers at eight o'clock the next 
morning. 

When he arrived, punctually at the appointed hour, he 
found that learned gentleman sitting at breakfast, with five 

63 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

little boys, whom he was to take down with him, ranged in a 
row on the opposite seat. Mr. Squeers had before him a small 
measure of coffee, a plate of hot toast, and a cold round of beef, 
but he was at that moment intent on preparing breakfast for 
the little boys. 

" This is twopenn'orth of milk, is it waiter ? " said Mr. 
Squeers. 

" That 's twopenn'orth, sir," replied the waiter. 

" What a rare article milk is, to be sure, in London ! " said 
Mr. Squeers, with a sigh. "Just fill that mug up with luke- 
warm water, William, will you ? " 

"To the wery top, sir? " inquired the waiter. "Why, the 
milk will be drownded." 

" Never you mind that," replied Mr. Squeers. " Serve it 
right for being so dear. You ordered that thick bread and 
butter for three, did you ? " 

" Coming directly, sir." 

" You need n't hurry yourself," said Squeers, " there 's 
plenty of time. Conquer your passions, boys, and don't be 
eager after vittles." As he uttered this moral precept, Mr. 
Squeers took a large bite out of the cold beef, and recognised 
Nicholas. 

" Sit down, Mr. Nickleby," said Squeers. " Here we are, 
a breakfasting, you see." 

Nicholas did not see that anybody was breakfasting, except 
Mr. Squeers ; but he bowed with all becoming reverence, and 
looked as cheerful as he could. 

" Oh, that 's the milk and water, is it, William ? " said Mr. 
Squeers. " Very good ; don't forget the bread and butter 
presently." 

At this fresh mention of the bread and butter, the five little 
boys looked very eager, and followed the waiter out, with their 
eyes ; meanwhile Mr. Squeers tasted the milk and water. 

64 



DOTHEBOYS HALL 

" Ah," said that gentleman, smacking his lips, " here 's 
richness ! Think of the many beggars and orphans in the 
streets that would be glad of this, little boys. A shocking 
thing hunger is, is n't it, Mr. Nickleby ? " 

" Very shocking, sir," said Nicholas. 

"When I say number one," pursued Mr. Squeers, put- 
ting the mug before the children, " the boy on the left hand 
nearest the window may take a drink ; and when I say number 
two, the boy next him will go in, and so till we come to 
number five, which is the last boy. Are you ready?" 

" Yes, sir," cried all the little boys with great eagerness. 

" That 's right," said Squeers, calmly getting on with his 
breakfast ; " keep ready till I tell you to begin. Subdue 
your appetites, my dears, and you 've conquered human 
natur. This is the way we inculcate strength of mind, Mr. 
Nickleby," said the schoolmaster, turning to Nicholas. 

Nicholas murmured something — he knew not what — in 
reply ; and the little boys, dividing their gaze between the 
mug, the bread and butter (which by this time had arrived) 
and every morsel which Mr. Squeers took into his mouth, 
remained with strained eyes in torments of expectation. 

" Thank God for a good breakfast," said Squeers when 
he had finished. " Number one may take a drink." 

Number one seized the mug ravenously, and had just 
drunk enough to make him wish for more, when Mr. Squeers 
gave the signal for number two, who gave up at the same 
interesting moment to number three ; and the process was 
repeated until the milk and water terminated with number 
five. 

" And now," said the schoolmaster, dividing the bread and 
butter for three into as many portions as there were children, 
" you had better look sharp with your breakfast, for the horn 
will blow in a minute or two, and then every boy leaves off." 
5 65 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

Permission being thus given to fall to, the boys began 
to eat voraciously, and in desperate haste ; while the school- 
master (who was in high good humour after his meal) looked 
smilingly on. In a very short time the horn was heard. 

" I thought it would n't be long," said Squeers, jumping 
up and producing a little basket from under the seat ; "put 
what you have n't had time to eat, in here, boys. You '11 
want it on the road ! " 

Nicholas was considerably startled by these very econo- 
mical arrangements ; but he had no time to reflect upon them, 
for the little boys had to be got up to the top of the coach, 
and their boxes had to be brought out and put in, and Mr. 
Squeers's luggage was to be seen carefully deposited in the 
boot, and all these offices were in his department. 

Presently, however, the coach was off, and they had started 
on their long trip, made doubly long by the severity of the 
weather, which caused them to be detained several times ; 
so it was not until six o'clock the following night, that he 
and Mr. Squeers, and the little boys, were all put down 
together at the George and New Inn, Greta Bridge. 

" Is it much farther to Dotheboys Hall, sir ? " asked 
Nicholas, when they had started off, the little boys in one 
vehicle, he and Mr. Squeers in another. 

" About three mile from here," replied Squeers. " But 
you need n't call it a Hall down here. The fact is, it ain't 
a Hall," observed Squeers, drily. 

"Oh, indeed !" said Nicholas, whom this piece of intelli- 
gence much astonished. 

" No," replied Squeers. " We call it a Hall up in London, 
because it sounds better, but they don't know it by that 
name in these parts. A man may call his house an island 
if he likes ; there 's no act of Parliament against that, I 
believe ? " 

66 



DOTHEBOYS HALL 

cc I believe not, sir," rejoined Nicholas. 

Squeers eyed his companion slily at the conclusion of this 
little dialogue, and finding that he had grown thoughtful and 
appeared in nowise disposed to volunteer any observations, 
contented himself with lashing the pony until they reached 
their journey's end. 

"Jump out," said Squeers. "Hallo there! Come and 
put this horse up. Be quick, will you ! " 

While the schoolmaster was uttering these and other impa- 
tient cries, Nicholas had time to observe that the school was a 
long, cold-looking house, one story high, with a few strag- 
gling outbuildings behind, and a barn and stable adjoining. 
Mr. Squeers had dismounted, and after ordering the boy, 
whom he called Smike, to see to the pony, and to take care 
that he had n't any more corn that night, he told Nicholas 
to wait at the front door a minute, while he went round 
and let him in. 

A host of unpleasant misgivings, which had been crowding 
upon Nicholas during the whole journey, thronged into his 
mind. His great distance from home, and the impossibility 
of reaching it, except on foot, should he feel ever so anxious, 
presented itself to him in most alarming colours; and as he 
looked up at the dreary house and dark windows, and upon 
the wild country round, covered with snow, he felt a depression 
of heart and spirit which he never had experienced before. 

" Now, then ! " cried Squeers, poking his head out at the 
front door, " Where are you, Nickleby ? " 

" Here, sir," replied Nicholas. 

" Come in, then," said Squeers, " the wind blows in, at this 
door, fit to knock a man off his legs." 

Nicholas sighed, and hurried in. Mr. Squeers ushered him 
into a small parlour scantily furnished with a few chairs, a yellow 
map hung against the wall, and a couple of tables ; one of which 

67 . 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

bore some preparations for supper. Mrs. Squeers then came 
in, and was duly made acquainted with Nicholas, and after some 
conversation between Mr. and Mrs. Squeers, a young servant 
girl brought in a Yorkshire pie, which being set upon the 
table, the boy Smike appeared with a jug of ale. 

Mr. Squeers meanwhile was emptying his great-coat 
pockets of letters to different boys, which he had brought 
down. Smike glanced, with an anxious and timid expression, 
at the papers, as if with a sickly hope that one among them 
might relate to him. The look was a very painful one, and 
went to Nicholas's heart at once ; for it told a sad history. 
He considered the boy more attentively, and was surprised to 
observe the extraordinary mixture of garments which formed 
his dress. Although he could not have been less than eighteen 
or nineteen years old, and was tall for that age, he wore a 
skeleton suit, which, though most absurdly short in the arms 
and legs, was quite wide enough for his attenuated frame. In 
order that the lower part of his legs might be in keeping with 
this singular dress, he had a very large pair of boots, originally 
made for tops, but now too patched and tattered for a beggar. 
He was lame, and as he feigned to be busy arranging the table, 
glanced at the letters with a look so keen, and yet so dispirited 
and hopeless that Nicholas could hardly bear to watch him. 

" What are you bothering about there, Smike ? " cried 
Mrs. Squeers ; "let the things alone, can't you ?" 

cc Eh," said Squeers, looking up. " Oh, it 's you, is it? " 

" Yes, sir," replied the youth, pressing his hands together, 
as though to control, by force, the nervous wandering of his 
fingers. " Is there — " 

" Well ! " said Squeers. 

"Have you — did anybody — has nothing been heard — 
about me ? 

" Not a word," resumed Squeers, " and never will be. 

6S 



DOTHEBOYS HALL 

Now, this is a pretty sort of thing, is n't it, that you should 
have been left here, all these years, and no money paid after 
the first six — nor no notice taken, nor no clue to be got who 
you belong to? It's a pretty sort of thing that I should have 
to feed a great fellow like you, and never hope to get one 
penny for it, is n't it ? " 

The boy put his hand to his head as if he were making 
an effort to recollect something, and then, looking vacantly 
at his questioner, gradually broke into a smile, and limped 
away. 

The following morning, when Nicholas appeared downstairs, 
Mrs. Squeers was in a state of great excitement. 

" I can't find the school spoon anywhere," she said anxiously. 

"Never mind it, my dear," observed Squeers in a soothing 
manner ; " it 's of no consequence." 

" No consequence ? Why, how you talk ! " retorted Mrs. 
Squeers sharply, " is n't it brimstone morning ? " 

cc I forgot, my dear," rejoined Squeers; "yes, it certainly 
is. We purify the boys' bloods now and then, Nickleby." 

" Oh ! nonsense," rejoined Mrs. Squeers. " If the young 
man comes to be a teacher here, let him understand, at once, 
that we don't want any foolery about the boys. They have 
the brimstone and treacle, partly because if they had n't some- 
thing or other in the way of medicine they 'd be always ailing 
and giving a world of trouble, and partly because it spoils their 
appetites and comes cheaper than breakfast and dinner. So, it 
does them good and us good at the same time, and that 's fair 
enough, I'm sure ! " 

" But come," said Squeers, " let 's go to the schoolroom ; 
and lend me a hand with my school-coat, will you ? " 

Nicholas assisted his master to put on an old fustian shoot- 
ing jacket, and Squeers, arming himself with his cane, led the 
way across a yard, to a door in the rear of the house. 

69 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

" There," said the schoolmaster, as they stepped in together ; 
" this is our shop, Nickleby ! " 

The " shop " was a bare and dirty room, with a couple of 
windows, whereof a tenth part might be of glass, the remainder 
being stopped up with old copybooks and paper. There were 
a couple of long, old rickety desks, cut and notched, and 
inked, and damaged, in every possible way ; two or three 
forms ; a detached desk for Squeers ; and another for his assist- 
ant. The ceiling was supported, like that of a barn, by cross 
beams and rafters ; and the walls were so stained and discol- 
oured, that it was impossible to tell whether they had ever 
been touched with paint or whitewash. 

But the pupils ! How the last faint traces of hope faded 
from the mind of Nicholas as he looked in dismay around ! 
There were pale and haggard faces, lank and bony figures, 
boys of stunted growth ; little faces which should have been 
handsome, darkened with the scowl of sullen, dogged suffer- 
ing ; vicious-faced boys, brooding with leaden eyes, with every 
kindly sympathy and affection blasted in its birth, with every 
young and healthy feeling flogged and starved down. 

And yet this scene, painful as it was, had its grotesque 
features. Mrs. Squeers stood at one of the desks, presiding 
over an immense basin of brimstone and treacle, of which 
delicious compound she administered a large instalment to 
each boy in succession: using for the purpose a common 
wooden spoon, which widened every young gentleman's mouth 
considerably : they being all obliged, under heavy corporal 
penalties, to take in the whole of the bowl at a gasp. 

In another corner, huddled together for companionship, 
were the little boys who had arrived on the preceding night : 
at no great distance from these was seated the juvenile son 
and heir of Mr. Squeers, Wackford by name — a striking 
likeness of his father — kicking, with great vigour, under the 

70 



DOTHEBOYS HALL 

hands of Smike, who was fitting upon him a pair of new 
boots that bore a most suspicious resemblance to those which 
the least of the little boys had worn on the journey down — 
as the little boy himself seemed to think, for he was regarding 
the appropriation with a look of rueful amazement. 

" Now," said Squeers, giving the desk a great rap with 
his cane, which made half the little boys nearly jump out 
of their boots, " is that physicking over ? " 

"Just over," said Mrs. Squeers, choking the last boy 
in her hurry, and tapping the crown of his head with the 
spoon to restore him. " Here, you Smike ; take away now. 
Look sharp ! " 

Smike shuffled out with the basin, and Mrs. Squeers, 
hurried out after him into a wash-house where there were 
a number of little wooden bowls which were arranged upon 
a board. Into these bowls, Mrs. Squeers poured a brown 
composition, which was called porridge. A minute wedge of 
brown bread was inserted in each bowl, and when they had 
eaten their porridge by means of it, the boys ate the bread 
itself, and had finished their breakfast ; whereupon Mr. Squeers 
said in a solemn voice, " For what we have received, may the 
Lord make us truly thankful ! " — and went away to his own. 

After eating his share of porridge, and having further 
disposed of a slice of bread and butter, allotted to him in 
virtue of his office, Nicholas sat himself down, to wait for 
school-time. He could not but observe how silent and sad 
the boys seemed to be. There was none of the noise and 
clamour of a school-room ; none of its boisterous play, 
or hearty mirth. The only pupil who evinced the slight- 
est tendency towards locomotion or playfulness was Master 
Squeers, and as his chief amusement was to tread upon the 
other boys' toes in his new boots, his flow of spirits was 
rather disagreeable than otherwise. 

7i 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

After some half-hour's delay, Mr. Squeers reappeared, 
and the boys took their places and their books, and ranged 
themselves in front of the schoolmaster's desk. 

" This is the class in English spelling, and philosophy, 
Nickleby," said Squeers, beckoning Nicholas to stand beside 
him. "We'll get up a Latin one, and hand that over to 
you. Now, then, where 's the first boy ? " 

"Please, sir, he's cleaning the back parlour window," 
answered one of the class. 

"So he is, to be sure," rejoined Squeers. "We go upon 
the practical mode of teaching, Nickleby ; the regular edu- 
cation system. C-1-e-a-n, clean, verb active, to make bright, 
to scour. When the boy knows this out of book, he goes 
and does it. Where 's the second boy ? " 

"Please, sir, he's weeding the garden," replied a small 
voice. 

"To be sure," said Squeers. " So he is. B-o-t, bot, t-i-n, 
tin, n-e-y, ney, bottinney, noun substantive, a knowledge of 
plants. Third boy, what 's a horse ? " 

" A beast, sir," replied the boy. 

" So it is," said Squeers. " Ain't it, Nickleby ? " 

" I believe there is no doubt of that, sir," answered 
Nicholas. 

" Of course there is n't," said Squeers. " A horse is 
a quadruped, and quadruped 's Latin for beast, as every 
body that's gone through the grammar knows. As you're 
perfect in that," resumed Squeers, turning to the boy, "go and 
look after my horse, and rub him down well, or I '11 rub you 
down. The rest of the class go and draw water up till some- 
body tells you to leave off, for it 's washing day to-morrow." 

So saying, he dismissed the class, and eyed Nicholas with 
a look, half cunning and half doubtful, as if he were not alto- 
gether certain what he might think of him by this time. 

72 



DOTHEBOYS HALL 

" That 's the way we do it, Nickleby," he said, after a pause. 

Nicholas shrugged his shoulders, and said he saw it was. 

" And a very good way it is, too," said Squeers. " Now 
just take them fourteen little boys and hear them some read- 
ing, because, you know, you must begin to be useful. " 

Mr. Squeers said this as if it had suddenly occurred to 
him, either that he must not say too much to his assistant, or 
that his assistant did not say enough to him in praise of the 
establishment. The children were arranged in a semi-circle 
round the new master, and he was soon listening to their dull, 
drawling, hesitating recital of stories to be found in the old 
spelling books. In this exciting occupation the morning 
lagged heavily on. At one o'clock, the boys sat down in 
the kitchen to some hard salt beef. After this, there was 
another hour of crouching in the schoolroom and shivering 
with cold, and then school began again. 

It was Mr. Squeers's custom to call the boys together, and 
make a sort of report, after every half-yearly visit to the 
metropolis, regarding the relations and friends he had seen, 
the news he had heard, the letters he had brought down, and 
so forth. This solemn proceeding took place on the afternoon 
of the day succeeding his return. The boys were recalled from 
house-window, garden and stable, and cow-yard, when Mr. 
Squeers with a small bundle of papers in his hand, and Mrs. 
Squeers following with a pair of canes, entered the room, and 
proclaimed silence. 

" Let any boy speak without leave," said Mr. Squeers 
mildly, " and I '11 take the skin off his back." 

This special proclamation had the desired effect, and a 
death-like silence immediately prevailed, in the midst of which 
Mr. Squeers went on to say : 

" Boys, I 've been to London, and have returned as strong 
and well as ever." 

73 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

According to half-yearly custom, the boys gave three feeble 
cheers at this refreshing intelligence. Such cheers ! Sighs of 
extra strength with the chill on. 

Squeers then proceeded to give several messages of various 
degrees of unpleasantness to sundry of the boys, followed up 
by vigorous canings where he had any grudge to pay off. One 
by one the boys answered to their names. 

" Now let us see,'' said Squeers. " A letter for Cobbey. 
Stand up, Cobbey. ,, 

Another boy stood up and eyed the letter very hard, while 
Squeers made a mental abstract of the same. 

" Oh," said Squeers ; " Cobbey's grandmother is dead, 
which is all the news his sister sends, except eighteenpence, 
which will just pay for that broken square of glass. Mrs. 
Squeers, my dear, will you take the money ? " 

The worthy lady pocketed the eighteenpence with a most 
business-like air, and Squeers passed on to the next boy, as 
coolly as possible. 

" Mobbs's step-mother," said Squeers, " took to her bed 
on hearing that he would n't eat fat, and has been very ill ever 
since. She wishes to know, by an early post, where he expects 
to go to if he quarrels with his vittles ; and with what feelings 
he could turn up his nose at the cow's liver broth, after his 
good master had asked a blessing on it. This was told her in 
the London newspapers — not by Mr. Squeers, for he is too 
kind and good to set anybody against anybody — and it has 
vexed her so much, Mobbs can't think. She is sorry to find 
he is discontented, which is sinful and horrid, and hopes Mr. 
Squeers will flog him into a happier state of mind; and with 
this view, she has also stopped his halfpenny a week pocket- 
money, and given a double-bladed knife with a corkscrew in it 
to the Missionaries, which she had bought on purpose for 
him." 

74 



\ 



DOTHEBOYS HALL 

cc A sulky state of feeling," said Squeers, after a terrible 
pause. " Cheerfulness and contentment must be kept up. 
Mobbs, come to me." 

Mobbs moved slowly towards the desk, rubbing his eyes 
in anticipation of good cause for doing so; and he soon after- 
wards retired by the side door, with as good a cause as a boy 
need have. 

Mr. Squeers then proceeded to open a miscellaneous collec- 
tion of letters ; some enclosing money, which Mrs. Squeers 
cc took care of; " and others referring to small articles of apparel, 
all of which the same lady stated to be too large, or too small, 
and calculated for nobody but young Squeers, who would 
appear indeed to have had most accommodating limbs, since 
everything that came into the school fitted hrm to a nicety. 
His head, in particular, must have been singularly elastic, for 
hats and caps of all dimensions were alike to him. 

This business despatched, a few slovenly lessons were per- 
formed, and Squeers retired to his fireside, leaving Nicholas to 
take care of the boys in the schoolroom. There was a small 
stove at that corner of the room which was nearest to the 
master's desk, and by it Nicholas sat down, depressed and 
degraded by the consciousness of his position. But for the 
present his resolve was taken. He had written to his mother 
and sister, announcing the safe conclusion of his journey, and 
saying as little about Dotheboys Hall, and saying that little as 
cheerfully, as he could. He hoped that by remaining where 
he was, he might do some good, even there ; at all events, 
others depended too much on him to admit of his complaining 
just then. 

From the moment of making that resolve, Nicholas got 
on in his place as well as he could, doing his best to improve 
matters. He arranged a few regular lessons for the boys, and 
saw that they were well attended ; but his heart sank more and 

75 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

more, for besides the dull, unvarying round of misery there 
was another system of annoyance which nearly drove him wild 
by its injustice and cruelty. Upon the wretched creature 
Smike, all the spleen and ill-humour that could not be vented 
on Nicholas, were unceasingly bestowed. Drudgery would 
have been nothing — Smike was well used to that. Bufferings 
inflicted without cause would have been equally a matter of 
course, for to them also he had served a long and weary 
apprenticeship ; but it was no sooner observed that he had 
become attached to Nicholas, than stripes and blows, morning, 
noon, and night, were his only portion. Squeers was jealous 
of the influence which his new teacher had so soon acquired ; 
and his family hated him, and Smike paid for both. Nicholas 
saw this, and ground his teeth at every repetition of the savage 
and cowardly attack. 

Not many weeks later, on a cold January morning, when 
Nicholas awoke he found the entire school agog with quiver- 
ing excitement. Smike had run away, and Squeers's anger was 
at white heat against him and every one else. 

" He is off," said Mrs. Squeers, angrily. " The cow- 
house and stable are locked up, so he can't be there ; and 
he 's not down stairs anywhere. He must have gone York 
way, and by a public road too. Then of course," continued 
Mrs. Squeers, " as he had no money he must beg his way, 
and he could do that nowhere, but on the public road." 

" That 's true," exclaimed Squeers, clapping his hands. 

"True! Yes; but you would never have thought of it, 
if I had n't said so," replied his wife. cc Now, if you take 
the chaise and go one road, and I borrow Swallow's chaise 
and go the other, one or other of us is pretty certain to lay 
hold of him ! " 

This plan was adopted and put in execution without a 
moment's delay. 

76 



DOTHEBOYS HALL 

After a very hasty breakfast, Squeers started forth in the 
pony-chaise, intent upon discovery and vengeance. Shortly 
afterwards, Mrs. Squeers issued forth in another chaise and 
another direction, taking with her a good-sized bludgeon, 
several odd pieces of strong cord, and a stout labouring 
man. 

Nicholas remained behind, in a tumult of feeling, sensible 
that whatever might be the upshot of the boy's flight, noth- 
ing but painful and deplorable consequences were likely to 
ensue from it. The unhappy being had established a hold 
upon his sympathy and compassion, which made his heart 
ache at the prospect of the suffering he was destined to 
undergo. 

The next evening Squeers returned alone and unsuccessful. 
Another day came, and Nicholas was scarcely awake when 
he heard the wheels of a chaise approaching the house. It 
stopped. The voice of Mrs. Squeers was heard in exultation. 
Nicholas hardly dared to look out * of the window ; but he 
did so, and the very first object that met his eyes was the 
wretched Smike : so bedabbled with mud and rain, so haggard, 
and worn, and wild, that, but for his garments being such 
as no scarecrow was ever seen to wear, he might have been 
doubtful, even then, of his identity. 

" Lift him out," said Squeers, after he had literally feasted 
his eyes upon the culprit. " Bring him in; bring him in ! " 

" Take care ! " cried Mrs. Squeers. " We tied his legs 
under the apron and made 'em fast to the chaise, to prevent 
his giving us the slip again." 

With hands trembling with delight, Squeers unloosened 
the cord; and Smike, more dead than alive, was brought into 
the house and securely locked up in a cellar. 

It may be a matter of surprise to some persons that Mr. 
and Mrs. Squeers should have taken so much trouble to 

77 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

repossess themselves of an incumbrance of which it was 
their wont to complain so loudly ; but the services of the 
drudge, if performed by any one else, would have cost some 
ten or twelve shillings per week in the shape of wages ; and 
furthermore, all runaways were, as a matter of policy, made 
severe examples of, at Dotheboys Hall, as in consequence of 
the limited extent of its attractions, there was but little induce- 
ment, beyond the powerful impulse of fear, for any pupil, pro- 
vided with the usual number of legs and the power of using 
them, to remain. 

The news that Smike had been caught and brought back 
in triumph, ran like wild-fire through the hungry community, 
and expectation was on tiptoe all the morning. On tiptoe 
it was destined to remain, however, until afternoon ; when 
Squeers called the school together, and dragged Smike by 
the collar to the front of the room before them all. 

" Have you anything to say ? " demanded Squeers, giving 
his right arm two or three flourishes to try its power and 
suppleness. "Stand a little out of the way, Mrs. Squeers, 
my dear ; I 'v« hardly got room enough/' 

cc Spare me, sir! " cried Smike. 

" Oh ! that 's all, is it? " said Squeers. " Yes, I '11 flog you 
within an inch of your life, and spare you that/' 

" I was driven to do it," said Smike faintly ; and casting 
an imploring look about him. 

cc Driven to do it, were you ? " said Squeers. cc Oh ! It 
wasn't your fault; it was mine, I suppose — eh ?" 

Squeers caught the boy firmly in his grip ; one desperate 
cut had fallen on his body — he was wincing from the lash 
and uttering a scream of pain — it was raised again, and again 
about to fall — when Nicholas Nickleby, suddenly starting up, 
cried " Stop ! " in a voice that made the rafters ring. 

" Who cried stop ? " said Squeers, turning savagely round. 

78 



DOTHEBOYS HA L L 

" I," said Nicholas, stepping forward. " This must not go 
on!" 

" Must not go on ! " cried Squeers, almost in a shriek. 

" No ! " thundered Nicholas. 

Aghast and stupified by the boldness of the interference, 
Squeers released his hold of Smike, and, falling back a pace or 
two, gazed upon Nicholas with looks that were positively 
frightful. 

cc I say must not," repeated Nicholas, nothing daunted ;• 
" shall not. I will prevent it." 

Squeers continued to gaze upon him, with his eyes starting 
out of his head ; but astonishment had actually, for the 
moment, bereft him of speech. 

" You have disregarded all my quiet interference in the 
miserable lad's behalf," said Nicholas; "you have returned no 
answer to the letter in which I begged forgiveness for him, and 
offered to be responsible that he would remain quietly here. 
Don't blame me for this public - interference. You have 
brought it upon yourself; not I." 

" Sit down, beggar ! " screamed Squeers, almost beside him- 
self with rage, arid seizing Smike as he spoke. 

" Wretch," rejoined Nicholas, fiercely, " touch him at your 
peril ! I will not stand by and see it done. My blood is up, 
and I have the strength of ten such men as you. Look to 
yourself, for by Heaven I will not spare you, if you drive me 
on ! " 

" Stand back," cried Squeers, brandishing his weapon. 

" I have a long series of insults to avenge," said Nicholas, 
flushed with passion; "and my indignation is aggravated 
by the dastardly cruelties practised on helpless infancy in 
this foul den. Have a care ; for if you do rouse the devil 
within me, the consequences shall fall heavily upon your own 
head!" 

79 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

He had scarcely spoken, when Squeers, in a violent out- 
break of wrath, and with a cry like the howl of a wild beast, 
struck him a blow across the face with his instrument of torture, 
which raised up a bar of livid flesh as it was inflicted. Smart- 
ing with the agony of the blow, and concentrating into that one 
moment all his feelings of rage, scorn, and indignation, Nicholas 
sprang upon him, wrested the weapon from his hand, and 
pinning him by the throat, beat the ruffian till he roared for 
mercy. 

Then he hastily retired from the fray, leaving Squeers's 
family to restore him as best they might. Seeking his room 
with all possible haste, Nicholas considered seriously what 
course of action was best for him to adopt. 

After a brief consideration, he packed up a few clothes in a 
small leathern valise, and, finding that nobody offered to 
oppose his progress, marched boldly out by the front door, and 
struck into the road which led to Greta Bridge. 

When he had cooled, sufficiently to be enabled to give his 
present circumstances some little reflection, they did not appear 
in a very encouraging light ; he had only four shillings and a 
few pence in his pocket, and was something more than two 
hundred and fifty miles from London, whither he resolved to 
direct his steps. 

He lay, that night, at a cottage where beds were let at a 
cheap rate to the more humble class of travellers ; and, rising 
betimes next morning, made his way before night to Borough- 
bridge. Passing through that town in search of some cheap 
resting-place, he stumbled upon an empty barn within a couple 
of hundred yards of the road side ; in a warm corner of which 
he stretched his weary limbs, and soon fell asleep. 

When he awoke next morning, and tried to recollect his 
dreams, which had been all connected with his recent sojourn 
at Dotheboys Hall, he sat up, rubbed his eyes, and stared — 

80 



DOTHEBOYS HALL 

not with the most composed countenance possible — at some 
motionless object which seemed to be stationed within a few 
yards in front of him. 

" Strange ! " cried Nicholas, " can this be some lingering 
creation of the visions that have scarcely left me ? It cannot be 
real — and yet I — I am awake ! Smike ! " 

The form moved, rose, advanced, and dropped upon its 
knees at his feet. It was Smike indeed. 

" Why do you kneel to me ? " said Nicholas, hastily raising 
him. 

" To go with you — anywhere — everywhere — to the 
world's end — to the churchyard grave," replied Smike, clinging 
to his hand. " Let me, oh, do let me. You are my home — 
my kind friend — take me with you, pray." 

I am a friend who can do " little for you," said Nicholas, 
kindly. " How came you here P " 

He had followed him, it seemed ; had never lost sight of 
him all the way ; had watched while he slept, and when he 
halted for refreshment ; and had feared to appear before, lest 
he should be sent back. He had not intended to appear now, 
but Nicholas had awakened more suddenly than he looked for, 
and he had had no time to conceal himself. 

"Poor fellow!" said Nicholas, "your hard fate denies 
you any friend but one, and he is nearly as poor and helpless 
as yourself." 

" May I — may I go with you ? " asked Smike timidly. 
" I will be your faithful hard-working servant, I will, indeed. 
I want no clothes," added the poor creature, drawing his rags 
together ; " these will do very well. I only want to be near 
you." 

" And you shall ! " cried Nicholas. " The world shall deal 
by you as it does by me, till one or both of us shall quit it for 
a better. Come ! " 

6 81 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

With these words, he strapped his burden on his shoulders, 
and, taking his stick in one hand, extended the other to his 
delighted charge ; and so they passed out of the old barn 
together, out from the nightmare of life at Dotheboys Hall, 
into the busy world outside. 

Some years later, when Mr. Squeers was making one of 
his customary semi-annual visits to London, he was arrested 
and sent to jail by persons who had discovered his system 
of fraud and cruelty, as well as the fact that he had in his 
possession a stolen will. Upon John Browdie, a burly Scotch- 
man, devolved the duty of carrying the painful news to Mrs. 
Squeers, and of dismissing the school. 

So, arriving at Dotheboys Hall, he tied his horse to a gate, 
and made his way to the schoolroom door, which he found 
locked on the inside. A tremendous noise and riot arose 
from within, and, applying his eye to a convenient crevice 
in the wall, he did not remain long in ignorance of its 
meaning. 

The news of Mr. Squeers's downfall had reached Dothe- 
boys ; that was quite clear. To all appearance, it had very 
recently become known to the young gentlemen ; for rebellion 
had just broken out. 

It was one of the brimstone-and-treacle mornings, and 
Mrs. Squeers had entered school according to custom with 
the large bowl and spoon, followed by Miss Squeers and the 
amiable Wackford : who, during his father's absence, had 
taken upon himself such minor branches of the executive as 
kicking the pupils with his nailed boots, pulling the hair 
of some of the smaller boys, pinching the others in aggra- 
vating places, and rendering himself in various similar ways 
a great comfort and happiness to his mother. Their entrance, 
whether by premeditation or a simultaneous impulse, was 

82 



DOTHEBOYS HALL 

the signal of revolt for the boys. While one detachment 
rushed to the door and locked it, and another mounted the 
desks and forms, the stoutest (and consequently the newest) 
boy seized the cane, and, confronting Mrs. Squeers with a 
stern countenance, snatched off her cap and beaver bonnet, 
put it on his own head, armed himself with the wooden spoon, 
and bade her, on pain of death, go down upon her knees and 
take a dose directly. Before that estimable lady could recover 
herself, or offer the slightest retaliation, she was forced into 
a kneeling posture by a crowd of shouting tormentors, and 
compelled to swallow a spoonful of the odious mixture, ren- 
dered more than usually savoury by the immersion in the bowl 
of Master Wackford's head, whose ducking was entrusted to 
another rebel. The success of this first achievement prompted 
the malicious crowd, whose faces were clustered together in 
every variety of lank and half-starved ugliness, to further 
acts of outrage. The leader was insisting upon Mrs. Squeers 
repeating her dose, Master Squeers was undergoing another dip 
in the treacle, when John Browdie, bursting open the door 
with a vigorous kick, rushed to the rescue. The shouts, 
screams, groans, hoots, and clapping of hands, suddenly ceased, 
and a dead silence ensued. 

"Ye be noice chaps," said John, looking steadily round. 
" What's to do here, thou yoong dogs ? " 

" Squeers is in prison, and we are going to run away ! " 
cried a score of shrill voices. " We won't stop, we won't 
stop ! " 

" Weel then, dinnot stop," replied John ; " who waants 
thee to stop ? Roon awa' loike men, but dinnot hurt the 
women. 

"Hurrah ! " cried the shrill voices, more shrilly still. 

"Hurrah?" repeated John. "Weel, hurrah loike men 
too. Noo then, look out. Hip — hip — hip — hurrah!" 

83 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

" Hurrah ! " cried the voices. 

" Hurrah ! agean," said John. " Looder still." 

The boys obeyed. 

" Anoother! " said John. " Dinnot be afeared on it. 
Let 's have a good un ! " 

" Hurrah ! " 

" Noo then/' said John, " let 's have yan more to end wi', 
and then coot off as quick as you loike. Tak' a good breath 
noo — Squeers be in jail — the school 's brokken oop — it 's 
all ower — past and gane — think o' thot, and let it be a hearty 
un! Hurrah!" 

Such a cheer arose as the walls of Dotheboys Hall had 
never echoed before, and were destined never to respond to 
again. When the sound had died away, the school was 
empty ; and of the busy noisy crowd which had peopled it 
but five minutes before, not one remained. 

For some days afterwards, the neighbouring country was 
overrun with boys, who, the report went, had been secretly 
furnished by Mr. and Mrs. Browdie, not only with a hearty 
meal of bread and meat, but with sundry shillings and six- 
pences to help them on their way. 

There were a few timid young children, who, miserable 
as they had been, and many as were the tears they had shed 
in the wretched school, still knew no other home, and had 
formed for it a sort of attachment which made them weep 
when the bolder spirits fled, and cling to it as a refuge. Of 
these, some were found crying under hedges and in such 
places, frightened at the solitude. One had a dead bird 
in a little cage ; he had wandered nearly twenty miles, and 
when his poor favourite died, lost courage, and lay down 
beside him. Another was discovered in a yard hard by the 
school, sleeping with a dog, who bit at those who came to 
remove him, and licked the sleeping child's pale face. 

84 



DOTHEBOYS HALL 

They were taken back, and some other stragglers were 
recovered, but by degrees they were all claimed, and, in course 
of time, Dotheboys Hall and its last breaking up began to 
be forgotten by the neighbours, or to be only spoken of 
as among things that had been. 



85 



DAVID COPPERFIELD 



87 




Little Em'ly and David Copperfield. 



DAVID COPPERFIELD 

THE first things that assume shape and form in the 
recollections of my childhood are my mother, with 
her pretty hair and youthful shape, and Peggotty, 
our faithful serving maid, with no shape at all, and 
eyes so dark that they seemed to darken their whole neighbour- 
hood in her face, and cheeks and arms so hard and red that I 
wonder the birds did n't peck her in preference to apples. 

What else do I remember ? — let me see. There comes to 
me a vision of our home, Blunderstone Rookery, with its 
ground-floor kitchen, and long passage leading from it to the 
front door. A dark store-room opens out of the kitchen, and 
in it there is the smell of soap, pickles, pepper, candles, and 
coffee, all at one whiff. Then there are the two parlours ; — the 
one in which we sit of an evening, my mother and I and 
Peggotty, — for Peggotty is quite our companion, — and the 
best parlour where we sit on a Sunday ; grandly, but not so 
comfortably, while my mother reads the old familiar Bible 
stories to us. 

And now I see the outside of our house, with the latticed 
bedroom windows, and the ragged old rooks' nests dangling in 
the elm-trees. I see the garden — a very preserve of butterflies, 
where the pigeon house and dog-kennel are, and the fruit trees. 
And I see again my mother winding her bright curls around 
her fingers, and nobody is as proud of her beauty as I am. 

One night when Peggotty and I had been sitting cosily by 
the parlour fire, my mother came home from spending the 
evening at a neighbour's, and with her was a gentleman with 
beautiful black hair and whiskers. As my mother stooped to 

89 . 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

kiss me, the gentleman said I was a more highly privileged 
little fellow than a monarch. 

" What does that mean ? " I asked him. He smiled and 
patted me on the head in reply, but somehow I did n't like 
him, and I shrank away, jealous that his hand should touch my 
mother's in touching me — although my mother's gentle chiding 
made me ashamed of the involuntary motion, and of my 
dislike for this new friend of hers, but from chance words which 
I heard Peggotty utter, I knew that she too felt as I did. 

From that time the gentleman with black whiskers, Mr. 
Murdstone by name, was at our house constantly, and gradually 
I became used to seeing him, but I liked him no better than 
at first. The sight of him filled me with a fear that something 
was going to happen, and time proved that I was right in my 
apprehension. One night when my mother, as usual, was out, 
Peggotty asked me, 

" Master Davy, how should you like to go along with me 
and spend a fortnight at my brother's at Yarmouth ? Would n't 
that be a treat ? " 

" Is your brother an agreeable man, Peggotty ? " I inquired, 
provisionally. 

" Oh what an agreeable man he is ! " cried Peggotty, holding 
up her hands. " Then there 's the sea; and the boats ; and the 
fishermen ; and the beach ; and 'Am to play with — " 

Peggotty meant her nephew Ham, but she spoke of him as 
a morsel of English Grammar. 

I was flushed with her summary of delights, and replied 
that it would indeed be a treat, but what would my mother say ? 

But Peggotty was sure that I would be allowed to go, and 
so it proved. My mother did not seem nearly so much sur- 
prised as I expected, and arranged at once for my visit. 

The day soon came for our going. I was in a fever of 
expectation, and half afraid that an earthquake might stop the 

90 



DAVID COPPERFIELD 

expedition, but soon after breakfast we set off, in a carrier's cart, 
and the carrier's lazy horse shuffled along, carrying us towards 
Yarmouth. We had a fine basket of refreshments, and we ate 
a good deal, and slept a good deal, and finally arrived in Yar- 
mouth, where at the public-house we found Ham waiting for 
us. He was a huge, strong fellow of six feet, with a simpering 
boy's face and curly light hair, and he insisted on carrying me 
on his back, as well as a small box of ours under his arm. 
We turned down lanes, and went past gas-works, boat-builders' 
yards, and riggers' lofts, and presently Ham said, 

" Yon 's our house, Mas'r Davy ! " 

I looked over the wilderness, and away at the sea, and 
away at the river, but no house could / make out. There was 
a black barge not far off, high and dry on the ground, with an 
iron funnel for a chimney, and smoking very cosily. 

" That 's not it ? " said I. " That ship-looking thing ? " 

"That's it, Mas'r Davy," returned Ham. 

If it had been Aladdin's palace, I could not have been more 
charmed with the romantic idea of living in it. There was a 
delightful door cut in the side, and it was roofed in, and there 
were little windows in it. It was beautifully clean inside and as 
tidy as possible. There was a table, and a Dutch clock, and a 
chest of drawers. On the walls were some coloured pictures 
of Biblical subjects. Abraham in red, going to sacrifice Isaac 
in blue, and Daniel in yellow, cast into a den of green lions, 
were most prominent. Also, there was a mantel-shelf, and 
some lockers and boxes which served for seats. Then Peg- 
gotty showed me the completest little bedroom ever seen, in 
the stern of the vessel, with a tiny bed, a little looking-glass 
framed in oyster-shells, and a nosegay of seaweed in a blue 
mug on the table. The walls were white-washed, and the 
patchwork counterpane made my eyes quite ache with its 
brightness. 

91 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

When I took out my pocket-handkerchief, it smelt as if it 
had wrapped up a lobster. When I confided this to Peggotty, 
she told me that her brother dealt in lobsters, crabs, and craw- 
fish, which accounted for the sea smells in the delightful house. 

The inmates of the boat were its master, Mr. Peggotty 
and his orphan nephew and niece, Ham and little Em'ly, which 
latter was a beautiful little girl, who wore a necklace of blue 
beads. There was also Mrs. Gummidge, an old lady who sat 
continually by the fire and knitted, and who was the widow of 
a former partner of Mr. Peggotty's. 

With little Em'ly I at once fell violently in love, and we 
used to walk upon the beach in a loving manner, hours and 
hours. I am sure I loved that baby quite as truly and 
with more purity than can enter into the best love of a later 
time of life ; and when the time came for going home, our 
agony of mind at parting was intense. 

During my visit I had been completely absorbed in my 
new companions, but no sooner were we turned homeward 
than my heart began to throb at thought of again seeing 
my mother, — my comforter and friend. To my surprise, 
when we reached the dear old Rookery, not my mother, but a 
strange servant opened the door. 

" Why, Peggotty," I said, ruefully, " is n't she come 
home?" 

"Yes, yes, Master Davy," said Peggotty, "She's come 
home. Wait a bit, Master Davy, and I '11 — I '11 tell you 
something." 

Intensely agitated, Peggotty led me into the kitchen and 
closed the door, then, as she untied her bonnet with a shaking 
hand, she said breathlessly ; " Master Davy, what do you 
think ? You have got a Pa ! " 

I trembled and turned white, and thought of my father's 
grave in the churchyard, which I knew so well. 

92 



DAVID COPPERFIELD 

£C A new one," said Peggotty. 

" A new one ? " I repeated. 

Peggotty gasped, as if she were swallowing something very 
hard, and, putting out her hand, said, 

" Come and see him." 

" I don't want to see him." 

" And your mama," said Peggotty. 

I ceased to draw back, and we went straight to the best 
parlour. On one side of the fire, sat my mother; on the 
other, Mr. Murdstone. My mother dropped her work, and 
arose hurriedly, but timidly, I thought. 

" Now, Clara, my dear," said Mr. Murdstone. " Recollect ! 
control yourself! Davy boy, how do you do? " 

I gave him my hand. Then I went over to my mother. 
She kissed me, patted me gently on the shoulder, and sat 
down again to her work, while Mr. Murdstone watched us 
both. I turned to look out of the window, and as soon 
as I could, I crept up-stairs. My old dear bedroom was 
changed, and I was to sleep a long way off, and there on 
my bed, thinking miserable thoughts, I cried myself to sleep. 
I was awakened by somebody saying, " Here he is ! " and 
there beside me were my mother and Peggotty, asking what 
was the matter. 

I answered, " Nothing," and turned over, to hide my 
trembling lip. 

" Davy," said my mother. " Davy, my child ! " 

Then when she would have caressed me in the old 
fashion, "Mr. Murdstone came up and sent the others away. 

" David," he said, making his lips thin, by pressing them 
together, " if I have an obstinate horse or dog to deal with, 
what do you think I do ? " 

" I don't know." 

" I beat him. . I make him wince and smart. I say to 

93 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

myself, c I '11 conquer that fellow; ' and if it were to cost him 
all the blood he had, I should do it. What is that upon your 
face ? " 

" Dirt," I said. 

He knew it was the mark of tears as well as I. But if he 
had asked the question twenty times, with twenty blows, I 
believe my baby heart would have burst before I would have 
told him so. 

" You have a good deal of intelligence for a little fellow," 
he said, " and you understood me very well, I see. Wash 
that face, sir, and come down with me." 

He pointed to the washstand, and motioned me to obey 
him directly, and I have little doubt that he would have 
knocked me down, had I hesitated. 

As he walked me into the parlour, he said to my mother, 
" Clara, my dear, you will not be made uncomfortable any more, 
I hope. We shall soon improve our youthful humours." 

I might have been made another creature for life, by a kind 
word just then. A word of welcome home, of reassurance 
that it was home, might have made me dutiful to my new 
father, and made me respect instead of hate him ; but the 
word was not spoken, and the time for it was gone. 

After that my life was a lonely one. Mr. Murdstone 
seemed to be very fond of my mother, and she of him, but 
also she seemed to stand in great awe of him, and dared not 
do what he might not approve. Soon Miss Murdstone came 
to live with us. She was a gloomy-looking lady, dark like 
her brother, and much like him in character. She assumed 
the care of the house, and mother had nothing more to do 
with it. Meanwhile, I learnt lessons at home. 

Shall I ever forget those lessons ! They were presided 
over nominally by my mother, but really by Mr. Murdstone 
and his sister, who were always present, and the very sight of 

94 



DAVID COPPERFIELD 

the Murdstones had such an effect upon me, that every word 
I had tried to learn would glide away, and go I know not 
where. I was treated to so much systematic cruelty that, 
after six months, I became sullen, dull, and dogged, and this 
feeling was not lessened by the fact that I was more and more 
shut out from my mother. I believe I should have been 
almost stupified but for the small collection of books which 
had belonged to my own father, and to which I had access. 
From that blessed little room, came forth " Roderick Ran- 
dom," "Peregrine Pickle," "Tom Jones," "The Vicar of 
Wakefield," "Robinson Crusoe," "Gil Bias," and "Don 
Quixote," — a glorious company to sustain me. They kept 
alive my fancy, and my hope of something beyond that place 
and time — they, and the "Arabian Nights" and "Tales of 
the Genii," — and were my only comfort. 

One morning, when I went into the parlour with my books, 
I found Mr. Murdstone poising a cane in the air, which he 
had obtained, it seemed, for the purpose of flogging me 
for any mistake I might make. My apprehension was so 
great, that the words of my lessons slipped off by the entire 
page, — I made mistake after mistake, failure upon failure, — 
and presently Mr. -Murdstone rose, taking up the cane, and 
telling me to follow him. As he took me out at the door, 
my mother ran towards us. Miss Murdstone said, " Clara ! 
are you a perfect fool ? " and interfered. I saw my mother 
stop her ears then, and I heard her crying. 

Mr. Murdstone walked me up to my room, and when we 
got there suddenly twisted my head under his arm. 

"Mr. Murdstone! Sir!" I cried, " Don t. Pray don't 
beat me ! I have tried to learn, sir, but I can't learn while 
you and Miss Murdstone are by. I can't indeed!" 

" Can't you, indeed, David ? " he said. " We '11 try that." 
He had my head as in a vise, but I twined round him some- 

95 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

how, and stopped him for a moment, entreating him again not 
to beat me. It was only for a moment though, for he cut me 
heavily an instant afterwards, and in the same instant I caught 
the hand with which he held me in my mouth and bit it 
through. It sets my tee'th on edge to think of it. 

He beat me then, as if he would have beaten me to death. 
Above all the noise we made, I heard them running up the 
stairs and crying out — my mother and Peggotty. Then he 
was gone ; and the door was locked outside ; and I was lying, 
fevered and hot, and torn, and sore, and raging in my puny 
way, upon the floor. 

How well I recollect, when I became quiet, what an un- 
natural stillness seemed to reign through the house ! When my 
passion began to cool, how wicked I began to feel ! My stripes 
were sore and stiff, and made me cry afresh when I moved, but 
they were nothing to the guilt I felt. It lay like lead upon 
my breast. For five days I was imprisoned, and of the length 
of those days I can convey no idea to any one. They occupy 
the place of years in my remembrance. On the fifth night 
Peggotty came to my door and whispered my name through 
the keyhole. 

" What is going to be done with me, Peggotty dear ? " 
I asked. 

"School. Near London," was Peggotty's answer. 

" When, Peggotty ? " 



" To-morrow. 



" Is that the reason why Miss Murdstorie took the clothes 
out of my drawers ? " 

" Yes," said Peggotty. " Box." 

" Sha n't I see mama ? " 

" Yes," said Peggotty. " Morning." 

Then followed some assurances of affection, which Peg- 
gotty sobbed through the keyhole, and from that night I 

96 



DAVID COPPERFIELD 

had an affection for her greater than for any one, except my 
mother. 

In the morning Miss Murdstone appeared and told me 
what I already knew, and said that I was to come down into 
the parlour, and have my breakfast. My mother was there, 
very pale, and with red eyes, into whose arms I ran, and 
begged her pardon from my suffering soul. 

" Oh, Davy," she said. " That you could hurt any one I 
love ! Try to be better, pray to be better ! I forgive you, but 
I am so grieved, Davy, that you should have such bad passions 
in your heart ! " 

They had persuaded her that I was a wicked fellow, and 
she was more sorry for that, than for my going away. I 
felt it sorely. I tried to eat, but tears dropped upon my 
bread-and-butter, and trickled into my tea, and I could not 
swallow. 

Presently the carrier was at the door, my box was in the 
cart, and before I could realise it, my mother was holding me 
in a farewell embrace, and then I got into the cart, and the 
lazy horse started off. 

About half a mile away from home the carrier stopped, and 
Peggotty burst from a hedge and climbed into the cart. She 
squeezed me until I could scarcely speak, and crammed some 
bags of cakes into my pockets, and a purse into my hand, but 
not a word did she speak. Then with a final hug, she climbed 
down and ran away again, and we started on once more. 

Having by this time cried as much as I possibly could, I 
began to think it was of no use crying any more. The carrier 
agreed with me, and proposed that my pocket handkerchief 
should be spread upon the horsed back to dry, to which I 
assented, and then turned my attention to the purse. It had 
three bright shillings in it, which Peggotty had evidently pol- 
ished up with whitening, — but more precious yet, — were 
7 97 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

two half-crowns in a bit of paper on which my mother had 
written, " For Davy. With my love." 

I was so overcome by this that I asked the carrier to reach 
me my pocket handkerchief again, but he thought I had 
better do without it, so I wiped my eyes on my sleeve and 
stopped myself — and on we jogged. 

At Yarmouth we drove to the inn-yard, where I dis- 
mounted, and was given dinner, after which I mounted the 
coach for London, and at three o'clock we started off on a trip 
which was not unpleasant to me, with its many novel sights 
and experiences. In London, at an inn in Whitechapel, I was 
met by a Mr. Mell, one of the teachers at Salem House, the 
school to which I was going. We journeyed on together, and 
by the next day were at Salem House, which was a square 
brick building with wings, enclosed with a high brick wall. I 
was astonished at the perfect quiet there, until Mr. Mell told 
me that the boys were at their homes on account of it being 
holiday-time, and that even the proprietor was away. And he 
added that I was sent in vacation as a punishment for my 
misdoing. 

I can see the schoolroom now, into which he took me, 
with its long rows of desks and forms, and bristling all round 
with pegs for hats and slates. Scraps of old copy-books and 
exercises littered the dirty floor, ink had been splashed every- 
where, and the air of the place was indescribably dreary. My 
companion left me there alone for a while, and as I roamed 
round, I came upon a pasteboard placard, beautifully written, 
lying on a desk, bearing these words, " 'Take care of him. He 
bites." 

I got upon the desk immediately, apprehensive of at least 
a great dog underneath, but I could see nothing of him. I 
was still peering about, when Mr. Mell came back, and asked 
what I did up there. 

98 



DAVID COPPERFIELD 

" I beg your pardon, sir," said I, " I 'm looking for the 
dog." 

" Dog," said he, " What dog ? " 

" The one that's to be taken care of, sir ; that bites." 

iC Copperfield," said he, gravely, " that 's not a dog. 
That 's a boy. My instructions are, Copperfield, to put this 
placard on your back. I am sorry to make such a beginning 
with you, but I must do it." 

With that he took me down, and tied the placard on my 
shoulders, and wherever I went afterwards I carried it. What 
I suffered from that placard, nobody can imagine. I always 
fancied that somebody was reading it, and I began to have 
a dread of myself, as a kind of wild boy who did bite. Above 
and beyond all, I dreaded the coming back of the boys and 
what they might think of me, and my days and nights were 
filled with gloomy forebodings. In a month Mr. Creakle, the 
proprietor of Salem House arrived. He was stout, with a 
bald head, a fiery face, small, deep-set eyes, thick veins in his 
forehead, a little nose, and a large chin. His face always 
looked angry, but what impressed me most about him was 
that he spoke always in a whisper. He inquired at once 
about my behaviour, and seemed disappointed to find that 
there was nothing against me so far. He then told me that he 
knew my stepfather as a man of strong character, and that 
he should carry out his wishes concerning me. He pinched 
my ear with ferocious playfulness, and I was very much fright- 
ened by his manner and words ; but before I was ordered 
away, I ventured to ask if the placard might not be removed. 
Whether Mr. Creakle was in earnest, or only meant to frighten 
me, I don't know, but he made a burst out of his chair, before 
which I precipitately retreated, and never once stopped until I 
reached my own bedroom, where, finding I was not pursued, 
I went to bed, and lay quaking for a couple of hours. 
L.ofC. 99 



\ 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

The next day the other masters and the scholars began to 
arrive. Jolly Tommy Traddles was the first boy back, and 
it was a happy circumstance for me. He enjoyed my placard 
so much that he saved me from the embarrassment of either 
disclosure or concealment, by presenting me to the other boys 
in this way ; " Look here ! Here's a game ! " Happily, too, 
most of the boys came back low-spirited, and were not as 
boisterous at my expense as I expected. Some of them did 
dance about me like wild Indians and pretended I was a dog, 
patting me and saying, " Lie down, sir ! " and calling me 
Towzer, which of course was trying, but, on the whole, much 
better than I had anticipated. 

I was not considered as formally received into the school 
until I had met J. Steerforth. He was one of the older 
scholars, reputed to be brilliant and clever, and quite the lion 
of the school. He inquired, under a shed in the playground, 
into the particulars of my punishment, and said it was "a jolly 
shame," which opinion bound me to him ever afterwards. 
Then he asked me what money I had, and when I answered 
seven shillings, he suggested that I spend a couple of shillings 
or so in a bottle of currant wine, and a couple or so in almond 
cakes, and another in fruit, and another in biscuit, for a little 
celebration that night in our bedroom, in honour of my arrival, 
and of course I said I should be glad to do so. I was*a little 
uneasy about wasting my mother's half-crowns, but I did not 
dare to say so, and Steerforth procured the feast and laid it 
out on my bed, saying, " There you are, young Copperfield, 
and a royal spread you Ve got." 

I could n't think of doing the honours of the feast, and 
begged him to preside. So he sat upon my pillow, handing 
round the viands, and dispensing the wine. As to me, I sat 
next to him, and the rest grouped about us on the nearest beds 
and on the floor; and there we sat in the dim moonlight, 

ioo 



DAVID COPPERFIELD 

talking in whispers, while I heard all the school gossip, about 
Mr. Creakle and his cruelty, and about the other masters, and 
that the only boy on whom Mr. Creakle never dared to lay 
a hand was Steerforth. All this and much more I heard 
before we at last betook ourselves to bed. 

The next day school began in earnest, and so far as the 
boys were concerned, Steerforth continued his protection of 
me, and was always a very firm and useful friend, as no one 
dared annoy any one whom he liked. 

One night he discovered that my head was filled with 
stories of my favourite heroes, which I could relate with 
some measure of graphic talent, and after that I was obliged 
to reel off stories by the yard, making myself into a regular 
Sultana Scheherezade for his benefit. I was much flattered by 
his interest in my tales, and the only drawback to telling 
them was that I was often very sleepy at night, and it was 
sometimes very hard work to be roused and forced into 
a long recital before the rising bell rang, but Steerforth was 
resolute, and as in return he explained sums and exercises 
to me, I was no loser by the transaction. Also, I honestly 
admired and loved the handsome fellow, and desired to please 
him. 

And so from week to week the story-telling in the dark 
went on, and whatever I had within me that was romantic or 
dreamy was encouraged by it. By degrees the other boys 
joined the circle of listeners. Traddles was always overcome 
with mirth at the comic parts of the stories. He used to pre- 
tend that he could n't keep his teeth from chattering when 
an Alguazil was mentioned in connection with the adventures 
of Gil Bias, and I remember when Gil Bias met the captain of 
the robbers in Madrid, Traddles counterfeited such an ague 
of terror, that Mr. Creakle who was prowling about the pas- 
sage, overheard him, and flogged him for disorderly conduct. 

IOI 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

There was little of especial moment in my first half-term 
at Salem House, except the quarrel which took place between 
Steerforth and Mr. Mell ; and an unexpected visit from Ham 
and Mr. Peggotty when I had the delight of introducing those 
rollicking fellows to Steerforth, whose bright, easy manner 
charmed them, as it did most persons. 

The rest of the half-year is a jumble in my recollection; 
and then came the holidays, which were spent at home. I 
found my mother as tender as of old. She hugged me and 
kissed me, and on that first blessed night, as Mr. and Miss 
Murdstone were away on a visit, mother and Peggotty and 
I dined together by the fireside in the old fashion. My 
mother spoke of herself as a weak, ignorant young thing 
whom the Murdstones were endeavouring to make as strong in 
character as themselves. Then we talked about Salem House 
and my experiences and friends there, and were very happy. 
That evening as the last of its race will never pass out of my 
memory. I was at home for a month, but after that first night 
I felt in the way, for the Murdstones were always with my 
mother. On the evening after my return I made a very 
humble apology to Mr. Murdstone, which he received with 
cold dignity. . I tried to spend my evenings in the kitchen 
with Peggotty, but of this Mr. Murdstone did not approve, so 
I sat wearily in the parlour, waiting for the hours to wear 
themselves away. What walks I took alone ! What meals I 
had in silence and embarrassment ! What dull evenings, por- 
ing over tables of weights and measures, and what yawns and 
dozes I lapsed into in spite of all my care ! Thus the holidays 
lagged away, until the morning came when Miss Murdstone 
gave me the closing cup of tea of the vacation. I was not 
sorry to go. I had lapsed into a stupid state ; but I was re- 
covering a little and looking foward to Steerforth. I kissed 
my mother, and had climbed into the carrier's cart when I 

102 



DAVID COPPERFIELD 

heard her calling me. I looked back, and she stood at the 
garden-gate, looking intently at me. 

So I lost her. So I saw her afterwards, in my sleep at 
school, — a silent presence near my bed — looking at me with 
the same intent face, — and the vision is still a constant bless- 
ing to me. 

■ From then I pass over all that happened at Salem House 
until my birthday in March. On the morning of that day I 
was summoned into Mr. Creakle's august presence. Mrs. 
Creakle was in the room too, and somehow they broke it to 
me that my mother was very ill. I knew all now ! 

" She is dead," they said. 

There was no need to tell me so. I had already broken 
out into a desolate cry, and felt an orphan in the wide world. 
If ever child were stricken with sincere grief, I was. But I 
remember even so, that my sorrow was a kind of satisfaction to 
me, when I walked in the playground, while the boys were in 
school, and saw them glancing at me out of the windows, and 
because of my grief I felt distinguished, and of vast import- 
ance. We had no story-telling that night, and Traddles in- 
sisted on lending me his pillow as a guarantee of his sympathy, 
which I understood and accepted. 

I left Salem House upon noon the next day, stopping in 
Yarmouth to be measured for my suit of black. Then all 
too soon I was at home again, only it was home no longer, 
for my mother was not. there. Mr. Murdstone, who was 
weeping, took no notice of me. Miss Murdstone gave me 
her cold fingers, and asked if I had been measured for my 
mourning, and if I had brought home my shirts. There was 
no sign that they thought of my suffering, and — alone — 
except for dear faithful Peggotty, I remained there, mother- 
less, and worse than fatherless, still stunned and giddy with 
the shock. As soon as the funeral was over, Peggotty obtained 

103 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

permission to take me home with her for a visit, and I was 
thankful for the change, even though I knew that Peggotty 
was leaving the Rookery forever. 

We found the old boat the same pleasant place as ever, 
only little Em'ly and I seldom wandered on the beach now. 
She had tasks to learn, and needlework to do. During the 
visit I had a great surprise, which was no less than Peggotty's 
marriage to the carrier who had taken me on so many trips, 
and whose affections it seemed, had long been fastened upon 
Peggotty. He took her to a nice little home, and there she 
showed me a room which she said would be mine whenever 
I chose to occupy it. I felt the constancy of my dear old 
nurse, and thanked her as well as I could, but the next day I 
was obliged to go back to the Murdstones. Peggotty made 
the journey with me, and no words can express my forlorn 
and desolate feelings when the cart took her away again, and I 
was left alone in the place where I used to be so happy. 

And now I fell into a state of neglect, apart from other 
boys of my own age, and apart from all friendly faces. What 
would I not have given to have been sent to school ! I 
think Mr. Murdstone's means were straightened at that time, 
and there was no mention of Salem House or of any other 
school. I was not beaten or starved, only coldly neglected. 
Peggotty I was seldom allowed to visit, but once a week she 
either came to see me or met me somewhere, and that, and 
the dear old books were my only comfort. 

One day Mr. Quinion, a visitor at the house, took pains to 
ask me some questions about myself, and afterwards Mr. 
Murdstone called me to him, and said : 

" I suppose you know, David, that I am not rich. You 
have received some considerable education already. Education 
is costly ; and even if I could afford it, I am of opinion that 
it would not be at all advantageous to you to be kept at 

104 



DAVID COPPERFIELD 

a school. There is before you a fight with the world ; and 
the sooner you begin it the better. You may have heard of 
the counting house of Murdstone and Grinby, in the wine 
trade ? Mr. Quinion manages the business, and he suggests 
that it gives employment to some other boys, and that he 
sees no reason why it should n't give employment to you. 
You will earn enough to provide for your eating, and drink- 
ing, and pocket money. Your lodging will be paid by 
me. So will your washing. Your clothes will be looked after 
for you, too," said Mr. Murdstone, cc as you will not be able, 
yet awhile, to get them for yourself. So you are now 
going to London, David, to begin the world on your own 
account." 

Behold me, on the morrow, in a much-worn little white hat, 
with a crape band round it, a black jacket, and stiff corduroy 
trousers ! Behold me so attired, and with my little worldly 
all in a small trunk, sitting, a lone, lorn child, in the post-chaise, 
journeying to London with Mr. Quinion ! Behold me at 
ten years old, a little labouring hind in Murdstone and Grinby's 
warehouse on the waterside at Blackfriars ! It was a crazy old 
house with a wharf of its own, but rotting with dirt and age. 
Their trade was among many kinds of people, chiefly supply- 
ing wines and spirits to certain packet ships, Mv work was 
pasting labels on full bottles, or fitting corks to them, or seal- 
ing the corks, and the work was not half so distasteful as were 
my companions, far below me in birth and education. The 
oldest of the regular boys was named Mick Walker, and 
another boy in my department, on account of his complexion, 
was called Mealy Potatoes. No words can express the secret 
agony of my soul as I sunk into this companionship, and 
thought sadly of Traddles, Steerforth, and those other boys, 
whom I felt sure would grow up to be great men. 

I lodged with a Mr. Micawber who lived in Windsor 

105 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

Terrace. My pay at the warehouse was six shillings a week. 
I provided my own breakfast and kept bread and cheese to 
eat at night. Also, child that I was, — sometimes I could not 
resist pastry cakes and puddings in the shop windows, all of 
which made a large hole in my six shillings. From Mon- 
day to Saturday I had no advice, no encouragement or help of 
any kind. I worked with common men and boys, a shabby 
child. I lounged about the streets, insufficiently and unsatis- 
factorily fed. But for the mercy of God, I might easily have 
been, for any care that was taken of me, a little robber or a 
little vagabond. Yet they were kind to me at the warehouse 
and that I suffered and was miserably unhappy, no one 
noticed. I concealed the fact even from Peggotty (partly for 
love of her, and partly for shame). 

I did my work not unskilfully, and though perfectly famil- 
iar with my companions, my conduct and manner placed a 
space between us and I was usually spoken of as the " little 
Gent." In my desolate condition, I became really attached to 
the Micawbers, and when they experienced reverses of fortune, 
and Mr. Micawber was carried off to the Debtors' Prison, I 
did all that I could for them, and remained with Mrs. Micaw- 
ber in lodgings near the prison. But I plainly saw that a 
parting was near at hand, as it was the Micawbers' intention to 
leave London as soon as Mr. Micawber could free himself. 
So keen was my dread of lodging with new people, added to 
the misery of my daily life at the warehouse, that I could not 
endure the thought, and finally I made a resolution. I would 
run away ! 

Many times in the old days, my mother had told me the 
story of my one relative, Aunt Betsey, who had been present 
at the time of my birth, confident in her hopes of a niece who 
should be named for her, Betsey Trotwood, and for whom she 
proposed to provide liberally. When I, David Copperfield, 

106 



DAVID COPPERFIELD 

came in place of the longed-for niece. Aunt Betsey shook the 
dust of the place off her feet, and my mother never saw her 
afterwards. My idea now was to find Aunt Betsey. Not know- 
ing where she lived, I wrote a long letter to Peggotty, and asked 
in it incidentally if she knew the address, and also if she could 
lend me half a guinea for a short time. She answered promptly 
and enclosed the half guinea, saying that Miss Betsey lived just 
outside of Dover, which place I at once resolved to set out for. 
However, I considered myself bound to remain at the ware- 
house until Saturday night ; and as when I first came there 
I had been paid for a week in advance, not to present myself 
as usual to receive my wages. For this reason I had borrowed 
the half guinea, that I might have a fund for my travelling 
expenses. 

Accordingly, when Saturday night came, I shook Mick 
Walker's hand, bade good-night to Mealy Potatoes — and ran 
away. 

My box was at my old lodging, and I had a card ready 
for it, addressed to " Master David, to be left till called for at 
the Coach Office, Dover." 

I found a young man with a donkey-cart whom I engaged for 
sixpence, to remove my box, and in pulling the card for it out of 
my pocket, I tumbled my half guinea out too. I put it in my 
mouth for safety, and had just tied the card on, when I felt 
myself violently chucked under the chin by the young man, and 
saw my half guinea fly out of my mouth into his hand. 

" You give me my money back, if you please," said I, 
very much frightened. " And leave me alone ! " 

" Come to the pollis," said he ; " you shall prove it yourn 
to the pollis ! " 

" Give me my box and money, will you ? " I cried, 
bursting into tears. 

The young man still replied, " Come to the pollis ! " 

107 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

Then suddenly changed his mind, jumped into the cart, sat 
upon my box, and exclaiming that he would drive to the pollis 
straight, rattled away. 

I ran after him as fast as I could, narrowly escaping being 
run over some twenty times in a mile, until I had no breath 
left to call out with. Now I lost him, now I saw him, but 
at length, confused and exhausted, I left him to go where he 
would with my box and money, and, panting and crying, but 
never stopping, I faced about for Greenwich, and had some 
wild idea of running straight to Dover. However, my scat- 
tered senses were soon collected and I sat down on a doorstep, 
quite spent. Fortunately, it was a fine summer night, and 
when I had recovered my breath, I went on again. But I had 
only three-halfpence in the world, and as I trudged on, I pic- 
tured to myself how I should be found dead in a day or two, 
under some hedge. Passing a little pawnshop, I left my 
waistcoat, and went on, richer by ninepence, and I foresaw that 
my jacket would go next, in fact that I should be lucky if I 
got to Dover in a shirt and a pair of trousers. 

It had occurred to me to go on as fast as I could towards 
Salem House, and spend the night behind the wall at the back 
of my old school, where there used to be a haystack. I imag- 
ined it would be a kind of company to have the boys and 
the bedroom where I used to tell the stories, so near me. I 
had a hard day's walk, and with great trouble found Salem 
House, and the haystack, and lay down outside the dark and 
silent house. Never shall 1 forget the lonely sensation of 
first lying down, without a roof above my head ! But at 
last I slept, and dreamed of old school-days, until the warm 
beams of the sun, and the rising bell at Salem House awoke 
me. As none of my old companions could still be there, 
I had no wish to linger, so I crept away from the wall and 
struck out into the dusty Dover road. 

108 



DAVID COPPERFIELD 

That day I got through three and twenty miles, and at 
night I passed over the bridge at Rochester, footsore and 
tired, eating bread as I walked. There were plenty of 
signs, " Lodgings for Travellers/' but I sought no shelter, 
fearing to spend the few pence I had. Very stiff and sore 
of foot 1 was in the morning, and I felt that I could go 
only a short distance that day. I took off my jacket, and 
went into a shop, where I exchanged it finally for one and 
fourpence. For threepence I refreshed myself completely, 
and limped seven miles further. I slept under another hay- 
stack, after washing my blistered feet in a stream, and went 
on in rather better spirits, coming at last to the bare wide 
downs near Dover. I then began to inquire of everyone I met, 
about my aunt, but no one knew her, and finally, when the 
morning was far spent, in despair I went into a little shop 
to ask once more. I spoke to the clerk, but a young woman 
on whom he was waiting, took the inquiry to herself. 

" My mistress ? " she said. " What do you want with her, 
boy ? " 

" On my replying that I wished to see Miss Trotwood, the 
young woman told me to follow her. I needed no second per- 
mission, though by this time my legs shook under me. Soon 
we came to a neat little cottage with cheerful bow-windows, in 
front of it a gravelled court, full of flowers. 

" This is Miss Trotwood's," said the young woman, and 
then she hurried in, and left me standing at the gate. My 
shoes were by this time in a woeful condition, my hat was 
crushed and bent, my shirt and trousers stained and torn, 
my hair had known no comb or brush since I left London, 
my face, neck, and hands, from unaccustomed exposure, were 
burnt to a berry-brown. From head to foot I was powdered 
with dust. In this plight I waited to introduce myself to 
my formidable aunt. 

109 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

As I waited, there came out of the house a lady with a 
handkerchief tied over her cap, a pair of gardening gloves 
on her hands, and carrying a great knife. I knew her im- 
mediately, for she stalked out of the house exactly as my 
mother had so often described her stalking up our garden 
at home. 

" Go away ! " said Miss Betsey, shaking her head, and 
waving her knife. " Go along ! No boys here ! " 

I watched her, with my heart at my lips, as she stopped 
to dig up a root. Then I went up and touched her. 

" If you please, ma'am," I began. 

She started, and looked up. 

" If you please, aunt." 

" Eh ? " exclaimed Miss Betsey, in a tone of amazement 
I have never heard approached. 

" If you please, aunt, I am your nephew." 

" Oh, Lord ! " said my aunt. And sat down flat in the 
garden-path. 

" I am David Copperfield, of Blunderstone, in Suffolk — 
where you came, on the night when I was born, and saw 
my dear mama. I have been very unhappy since she died. 
I have been slighted and taught nothing, and thrown upon 
myself, and put to work not fit for me. It made me run away 
to you. I was robbed at first setting out, and have walked all 
the way, and have never slept in a bed since I began the 
journey." Here my self-support gave way all at once, and I 
broke into a passion of crying. 

My aunt sat on the gravel, staring at me, until I began 
to cry, when she got up in a great hurry, collared me, and 
took me into the parlour. Her first proceeding there was to 
unlock a tall press, bring out several bottles, and pour some 
of the contents of each into my mouth. I think they must 
have been taken out at random, for I am sure I tasted ani- 

IIO 



DAVID COPPERFIELD 

seed water, anchovy sauce, and salad dressing. Then she put 
me on a sofa with a shawl under my head, and a handkerchief 
under my feet, lest I should soil the cover, and then, sitting 
down so I could not see her face, she ejaculated " Mercy on 
us ! " at regular intervals. 

After a time she rang a bell, and a grey-headed, florid old 
gentleman, called Mr. Dick, who had the appearance of a 
grown-up boy, and who lived with my aunt, appeared. When 
my aunt asked his opinion about what to do with me, his 
advice was to wash me. 

This Janet, the maid, was preparing to do, when sud- 
denly my aunt became, in one moment, rigid with indignation, 
and cried out, cc Janet ! Donkeys ! " 

Upon which, Janet came running as if the house were in 
flames, and darted out on a little piece of green in front, to 
warn off two donkeys, lady ridden, while my aunt seized the 
bridle of a third animal, laden with a child, led him from the 
sacred spot, and boxed the ears of the unlucky urchin in 
attendance. 

To this hour I do not know whether my aunt had any 
lawful right of way over that patch of green, but she had set- 
tled it in her own mind that she had, and it was all the same 
to her. The passage of a donkey over that spot was the 
one great outrage of her life. In whatever occupation or 
conversation she was engaged, a donkey turned the current 
of her ideas, and she was upon him straight. Jugs of water 
were kept in secret places ready to be discharged on the offend- 
ers, sticks were laid in ambush behind the doors ; sallies were 
made at all hours, and incessant war prevailed, which was per- 
haps an agreeable excitement to the donkey boys. 

The bath was a great comfort, for I began to feel acute 
pains in my limbs, and was so tired that I could scarcely 
keep awake for Hvq minutes together. Enrobed in clothes 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

belonging to Mr. Dick, and tied up in great shawls, I fell 
asleep, on the sofa, and only awoke in time to dine off a 
roast fowl and pudding, while my aunt asked me a number of 
questions, and spoke of my mother and Peggotty, and in 
the afternoon we talked again and there was another alarm of 
Donkeys. 

After tea we sat at the window until dusk, and shortly 
afterwards I was escorted up to a pleasant room at the top 
of the house. When I had said my prayers, and the candle 
had burnt out, I lay there yielding to a sensation of profound 
gratitude and rest, nestling in the snow white sheets, and I 
prayed that I might never be houseless any more, and might 
never forget the houseless. 

At breakfast the following day, I found myself the object 
of my aunt's most rigid scrutiny. 

" Hallo ! " she said, after a time to attract my attention, 
and when I looked up she told me that she had written Mr. 
Murdstone in regard to me, under which information I be- 
came heavy of heart, for I felt that some efforts would be 
made to force me to return to the warehouse, while the more 
I saw of my aunt, the more sure I felt that she was the 
one with whom I wished to stay ; that with all her eccentrici- 
ties and humours, she was one to be honoured and trusted in. 

On the second day after my arrival, my Aunt gave a sud- 
den alarm of donkeys, and to my consternation I beheld Miss 
Murdstone ride over the sacred piece of green, and stop in 
front of the house. 

" Go along with you ! " cried my aunt, shaking her head 
and her fist at the window. " You have no business there. 
How dare you trespass? Oh ! you bold-faced thing ! " 

I hurriedly told her who the offender was, and that Mr. 
Murdstone was behind her, but Aunt Betsey was frantic, and 
cried, " I don't care who it is — I won't allow it ! Go away ! 



DAVID COPPERFIELD 

Janet, lead him off! " and from behind my aunt, I saw the 
donkey pulled round by the bridle, while Mr. Murdstone 
tried to lead him on, and Miss Murdstone struck at Janet 
with a parasol, and several boys shouted vigorously. But 
my aunt suddenly discovering the donkey's guardian to be 
one of the most inveterate offenders against her, rushed out 
and pounced upon him, while the Murdstones waited until she 
should be at leisure to receive them. She marched past them 
into the house, a little ruffled by the combat, and took 
no notice of them until they were announced by Janet. 

" Shall I go away, aunt ? " I asked trembling. 

" No, sir," said she. " Certainly not ! " With which she 
pushed me into a corner, and fenced me in with a chair, as if it 
were a prison, and there I stayed. There were several sharp 
passages at arms between my aunt and the Murdstones, when 
my past, and my mother's life came up for discussion. Finally 
Mr. Murdstone said : 

" I am here to take David back, Miss Trotwood ; to dis- 
pose of him as I think proper, and to deal with him as I 
think right. I am not here to make any promise to anybody. 
You may possibly have some idea, Miss Trotwood, of abet- 
ting him in his running away, and in his complaints to you. 
Now, I must caution you, that if you abet him once, you abet 
him for good and all. I cannot trifle, or be trifled with. I 
am here, for the first and last time, to take him away. Is 
he ready to go ? If you tell me he is not, it is indifferent to 
me on what pretence, — my doors are shut against him hence- 
forth, and yours, I take it for granted are open to him." 

My aunt had listened with the closest attention, her 
hands folded on her knee, and looking grimly at the speaker. 
When he had finished, she turned to Miss Murdstone, and 
said : 

"Well, ma'am, haveyou got anything to remark? " 

8 "3 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

As she had not, my aunt turned to me. 

"And what does the boy say ? " she said. " Are you ready 
to go, David? " 

I answered no, and entreated her not to let me go. I 
begged and prayed my aunt to befriend and protect me, for 
my father's sake. 

My aunt consulted for a moment with Mr. Dick, and 
then she pulled me towards her, and said to Mr. Murdstone : 

" You can go when you like ; I '11 take my chance with 
the boy. If he 's all you say he is, at least I can do as much 
for him then, as you have done. But I don't believe a word 
of it." 

There were some additional words on both sides, and 
then the Murdstones stood ready to leave. 

" Good day, sir," said my aunt " and good-bye ! Good 
day to you too, ma'am," — turning suddenly upon his sister. 
" Let me see you ride a donkey over my green again, and 
as sure as you have a head upon your shoulders, I '11 knock 
your bonnet off, and tread upon it ! " 

The manner and matter of this speech were so fiery, that 
Miss Murdstone without a word in answer, discreetly put 
her arm through her brother's, and walked hastily out of the 
cottage, my aunt remaining at the window, prepared in case of 
the donkey's re-appearance, to carry her threat into execution. 
No attempt at defiance being made, however, her face gradually 
relaxed, and became so pleasant, that I was emboldened to kiss 
and thank her ; which I did with great heartiness. She then 
told me that she wished my name to be changed to Trotwood 
Copperfield, and this notion so pleased her, that some ready- 
made clothes purchased for me that very day, were marked 
" Trotwood Copperfield," in indelible ink before I put them 
on, and it was settled that all my clothes thereafter should be 
marked in the same way. 

114 



DAVID COPPER FIELD 

Thus I began my new life in a new name, and with every- 
thing new about me. For many days I felt that it was all a 
dream, and then the truth came over me in waves of joy that 
it was no dream, but blessed, blessed reality ! 

Aunt Betsey soon sent me to Doctor Strong's excellent 
school at Canterbury. It was decorously ordered on a sound 
system, with an appeal in everything to the honour and good 
faith of the boys. We all felt that we had a part in the man- 
agement of the place, and learnt with a good will, desiring to do 
it credit. We had noble games out of hours, and plenty of 
liberty, and the whole plan of the school was as superior to 
that of Salem House as can be imagined. I soon became 
warmly attached to the place, the teachers, and the boys, and in 
a little while the Murdstone and Grinsby life became so 
strange that I hardly believed in it. Of course I wrote to 
Peggotty, relating my experiences, and how my aunt had taken 
me under her care, and returning the half guinea I had bor- 
rowed, and Peggotty answered promptly, but although she ex- 
pressed herself as glad in my gladness, I could see that she did 
not take quite kindly to my Aunt as yet. 

The days glide swiftly on. I am higher in the school, — I 
am growing great in Latin verse, think dancing school a tire- 
some affair, and neglect the laces of my boots. Doctor Strong 
refers to me publicly as a promising young scholar, at which 
my aunt remits me a guinea by the next post. 

The shade of a young butcher crosses my path. He is the 
terror of Doctor Strong's young gentlemen, whom he publicly 
disparages. He names individuals (myself included) whom he 
could undertake to settle with one hand, and the other tied 
behind him. He waylays the smaller boys to punch their 
unprotected heads, and calls challenges after me in the streets. 
For these reasons, I resolve to fight the butcher. 

We meet by appointment with a select audience. Soon, I 

115 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

don't know where the wall is, or where I am, or where any- 
body is, but after a bloody tangle and tussle in the trodden 
grass, feeling very queer about the head, I awake, and augur 
justly that the victory is not mine. I am taken home in a sad 
plight, to have beef-steaks put to my eyes, and am rubbed 
with vinegar and brandy, and find a great white puffy place on 
my upper lip, and for several days I remain in the house with 
a green shade over my eyes, and yet feeling that I did right 
to fight the butcher. 

I change more and more, and now I am the head boy. I 
wear a gold watch and chain, a ring upon my little finger, and 
a long-tailed coat. I am seventeen, and am smitten with a 
violent passion for the eldest Miss Larkins, who is about thirty. 
She amuses herself with me as with a new toy, wears my ring 
for a season, and then announces her engagement to a Mr. 
Chestle. I am terribly dejected for a week or two, then I rally, 
become a boy once more, fight the butcher again, gloriously 
defeat him, and feel better, — and soon my school days draw to 
a close. 

My aunt and I had many grave deliberations on the calling 
to which I should devote myself, but could come to no conclu- 
sion, as I had no particular liking that I could discover, for any 
profession. So my aunt proposed that while I was thinking the 
matter over, I take a little trip, a breathing spell, as it were. 

"What I want you to be, Trot," said my aunt, — " I don't 
mean physically, but morally; you are very well physically — 
is, a firm fellow, a fine, firm fellow, with a will of your own, with 
determination. With character, Trot, with strength of character 
that is not to be influenced, except on good reason, by anybody, 
or by anything. That 's what I want you to be." 

I intimated that I hoped I should be what she described, 
and she added that it was best for me to go oh my trip alone, 
to learn to rely upon myself. 

116 



DAVID COPPERFIELD 

So I was fitted out with a handsome purse of money, and 
tenderly dismissed upon my expedition, promising to write 
three times a week, and to be back in a month's time. 

I went first to say farewell to Doctor Strong, and then took 
my seat on the box of the London coach. It was interesting 
to be sitting up there, behind four horses ; well educated, well 
dressed, with plenty of money, and to look out for the places 
where I had slept on my weary journey. I stretched my neck 
eagerly, looking for old landmarks, and when we passed Salem 
House I fairly tingled with emotion. At Charing Cross I 
stopped at the Golden Cross, and as soon as I had taken a 
room, ordered my dinner, trying to appear as old and dignified 
as possible. In the evening I went to the Covent Garden 
Theatre, and saw Julius Caesar and a pantomime. It was new 
to me, and the mingled reality and mystery of the whole show, 
lights, music, company, and glittering scenery, were so dazzling 
that when I went out at midnight into the rain, I felt as if I 
had been for a time an inmate of another world, and was so 
excited that instead of going to my room in the hotel I ordered 
some porter and oysters, and sat revolving the glorious visions 
in my mind until past one o'clock. Presently, I began to 
watch a young man near me whose face was very familiar, 
Finally, I rose, and with a fast-beating heart said, 

" Steerforth, won't you speak to me ? " 

He quickly glanced up, but there was no recognition in his 
face. 

"My God," he suddenly exclaimed, "It's little Copper- 
field!" 

Then ensued a violent shaking of hands, and a volley of 
questions on both sides. He was studying at Oxford, but was 
on his way to visit his mother, who lived just out of London. 
He was as handsome, and fascinating, and gay, as ever, in fact 
quite bewilderingly so to me ; and all those things which I en- 

117 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

joyed, he pronounced dreadful bores, quite like a man of the 
world. However, we got on famously, and when he invited 
me to go with him to his home at Highgate, I accepted with 
pleasure, and spent a delightful week there in the genteel, old- 
fashioned, quiet home. At the end of the week, Steerforth 
decided to go with me to Yarmouth, so we travelled on together 
to the inn there, and took rooms. 

As early as possible the next day, I visited Peggotty. She 
did not recognise me after our seven years* separation, but 
when at last it dawned on her who I was, she cried, " My dar- 
ling boy ! " and we both burst into tears, and were locked in 
one another's arms as though I were a child again. 

That evening Steerforth and I went to see Mr. Peggotty 
and my other friends in the boat, and we were so warmly 
received that it was nearly midnight when we took our leave. 
We stayed in Yarmouth for more than a fortnight, and I made 
many pilgrimages to the dear haunts of my childhood, par- 
ticularly to that place where my mother and father lay, and 
mingled with my sad 'thoughts were brighter ones, about my 
future — and of how in it I was to become a man of whom 
they might have been proud. 

At the end of the fortnight came a letter from Aunt Betsey, 
saying that she had taken lodgings for a week in London, and 
that if I would join her, we could discuss her latest plan for me, 
which was that I become a proctor in Doctors' Commons. 

I mentioned the plan to Steerforth, and he advised me to 
take kindly to it, and by the time that I reached London I had 
made up my mind to do so. My aijnt was greatly pleased when 
I told her this, whereupon I proceeded to add that my only 
objection to the plan lay in the great expense it would be to 
article me, — a thousand pounds at least. I spoke of her past 
liberality to me, and asked her whether I had not better choose 
some work which required less expensive preliminaries. 

118 



DAVID COPPERFIELD 

For a time my aunt was deep in thought. Then she 
replied : 

" Trot, my child, if I have any object in life, it is to pro- 
vide for your being a good, sensible, and happy man. I am 
bent upon it. It 's in vain, Trot, to recall the past, unless it 
has some influence upon the present. Perhaps I might have 
been better friends with your father and mother. When you 
came to me, a little runaway boy, perhaps I thought so. 
From that time until now, Trot, you have ever been a credit 
to me, and a pride and pleasure. I have no other claim upon 
my means, — and you are my adopted child. Only be a lov- 
ing child to me in my old age, and bear with my whims and 
fancies, and you will do more for an old woman whose prime 
of life was not so happy as it might have been, than ever that 
old woman did for you." 

It was the first time I had heard my aunt refer to her past 
history. Her quiet way of doing it would have exalted her in 
my respect and affection, if anything could. 

" All is agreed and understood between us now, Trot," she 
said, " and we need talk of this no more. Give me a kiss, and 
we '11 go to. the Commons in the morning." 

And accordingly at noon the next day we made our way 
to Doctors' Commons, interviewed Mr. Spenlow, of the firm 
of Spenlow and Jorkins, and I was accepted on a month's pro- 
bation as an articled clerk. Mr. Spenlow then conducted me 
through the Court, that I might see what sort of a place it was. 
Then my aunt and I set off in search of lodgings for me, and 
before night I was the proud and happy owner of the key to a 
little set of chambers in the Adelphi, conveniently situated near 
the Court, and to my taste in all ways. Seeing how enraptured 
I was with them, my aunt took them for a month, with the privi- 
lege of a year, made arrangements with the landlady about 
meals and linen, and I was to take possession in two days ; 

119 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

during which time I saw Aunt Betsey safely started on her 
homeward journey towards Dover, dreading to leave me, but 
exulting in the coming discomfiture of the vagrant donkeys. 

It was a wonderfully fine thing to have that lofty castle to 
myself, and when I had taken possession and shut my outer 
door, I felt like Robinson Crusoe, when he had got within his 
fortification, and pulled his ladder up after him. I felt rich, 
powerful, old, and important, and when I walked out about 
town, with the keys of my house in my pocket, and able to ask 
any fellow to come home with me, without giving anybody any 
inconvenience, I became a quite different personage than ever 
heretofore. 

Whatever there was of happiness or of sorrow, of success 
or of failure, in my later life, does not belong on these pages. 
The identity of the child, and of the boy, David Copperfield is 
now forever merged in the personality of — Trotwood Copper- 
field, Esquire, householder and Man. 



KIT NUBBLES 



121 




Kit Nubbles. 



KIT NUBBLES 

C|HRISTOPHER, or Kit Nubbles, as he was com- 
, monly called, was not handsome in the estimation 
of anyone except his mother, and mothers are apt 
to be partial. He was a shock-headed, shambling, 
awkward lad, with an uncommonly wide mouth, very red 
cheeks, a turned-up nose, and certainly the most comical 
expression of face I ever saw. 

He was errand-boy at the Old Curiosity Shop, and deeply 
attached to both little Nell Trent and her grandfather, his 
employer. And just here let me explain that Nell's grand- 
father led a curious sort of double life ; his days were spent 
in the shop, but when night fell, he invariably took his cloak, 
his hat, and his stick, and kissing the child, passed out, leaving 
her alone through the long hours of the night, and Nell had no 
knowledge that in those nightly absences he was haunting the 
gaming table; risking large sums, and ever watching with 
feverish anticipation for the time when he should win a vast 
fortune to lay by for the child, his pet and darling, to keep her 
from want if death should take him away. But of this little 
Nell knew nothing, or she would have implored him to give 
up the wicked and dangerous pastime. 

Nor did she know that it was from Quilp, a strange, rich, 
little dwarf, who had many trades and callings, that her grand- 
father was borrowing the money which he staked nightly in 
hopes of winning more, pledging his little stock as security for 
the debt. 

It was a lonely life that Nell led, with only the old man 
for companion, so she had a genuine affection for the awkward 

123 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

errand-boy, Christopher, who was one of the few bits of comedy 
in her days, and his devotion to her verged on worship. One 
morning Nell's grandfather sent her with a note to the little 
dwarf, Quilp ; and Kit, who escorted her, while he waited for 
her, got into a tussle with Quilp's boy, who asserted that Nell 
was ugly, and that she and her grandfather were entirely in 
Quilp's power. 

That was too much for Kit to bear in silence, and he 
retorted that Quilp was the ugliest dwarf that could be 
seen anywheres for a penny. 

This enraged Quilp's boy, who sprang upon Kit, and the 
two were engaged in a hand-to-hand fight, when Quilp appeared 
and separated them, asking the cause of the quarrel, and was 
told that Kit had called him, " The ugliest dwarf that could be 
seen anywheres for a penny." Poor Kit never dreamed that 
his unguarded remark was to be treasured up against him in 
the mind of the jealous, vindictive, little dwarf, and used to 
separate him from his idolised mistress and her grandfather, 
but it was even so, for there was a power of revenge, a hatred, 
in the tiny body of the dwarf, entirely out of proportion to 
his size. 

Quilp at this time desired to injure the old man and his 
grandchild, and soon made several discoveries in a secret way, 
which, added to what he found out from little Nell's own artless 
words about her home life, and her grandfather's habits, enabled 
him to put two and two together, and guess correctly for what 
purpose the old man borrowed such large sums from him, and 
he refused him further loans. More than this, he told the 
old man that he (Quilp) held a bill of sale on his stock and 
property, and that he and little Nell would be henceforth 
homeless and penniless. 

The old man pleaded, with agony in his face and voice for 
one more advance, — one more trial, — but Quilp was firm. 

124 



KIT NUBBLES 

" Who is it ? " retorted the old man, desperately, u that, 
notwithstanding all my caution, told you ? Come, let me 
know the name, — the person." 

The crafty dwarf stopped short in his answer, and said, — 

" Now, who do you think ? " 

" It was Kit. It must have been the boy. He played the 
spy, and you tampered with him." 

" How came you to think of him ? " said the dwarf. " Yes, 
it was Kit. Poor Kit ! " So saying, he nodded in a friendly 
manner, and took his leave ; stopping when he passed the 
outer door a little distance, and grinning with extraordinary 
delight. 

" Poor Kit ! " muttered Quilp. " I think it was Kit who 
said I was an uglier dwarf than could be seen anywhere for a 
penny, was n't it ? Ha, ha, ha ! Poor Kit ! " 

And with that he went his way, still chuckling as he went. 

That evening Kit spent in his own home. The room in 
which he sat down, was an extremely poor and homely place, 
but with that air of comfort about it, nevertheless, which 
cleanliness and order can always impart in some degree. Late 
as the Dutch clock showed it to be, Kit's mother was still hard 
at work at an ironing-table ; a young child lay sleeping in a 
cradle near the fire ; and another, a sturdy boy of two or three 
years old, very wide awake, was sitting bolt upright in a 
clothes-basket, staring over the rim with his great round eyes. 
It was rather a queer-looking family ; Kit, his mother, and the 
children, being all strongly alike. 

Kit was disposed to be out of temper, but he looked at 
the youngest child, and from him to his other brother in the 
clothes-basket, and from him to his mother, who had been at 
work without complaint since morning, and thought it would 
be a better and kinder thing to be good-humoured. So he rocked 
the cradle with his foot, made a face at the rebel in the clothes- 

125 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

basket, which put him in high good-humour directly, and stoutly 
determined to be talkative, and make himself agreeable. 

" Did you tell me just now, that your master had n't gone 
out to-night ? " inquired Mrs. Nubbles. 

" Yes," said Kit, "worse luck ! " 

" You should say better luck, I think," returned his mother, 
" because Miss Nelly won't have been left alone." 

"Ah ! " said Kit, " I forgot that. I said worse luck, because 
I 've been watching ever since eight o'clock, and seen nothing 
of her. Hark, what 's that ? " 

" It 's only somebody outside." 

" It 's somebody crossing over here," said Kit, standing 
up to listen, " and coming very fast too. He can't have gone 
out after I left, and the house caught fire, mother ! " 

The boy stood for a moment, really bereft, by the appre- 
hension he had conjured up, of the power to move. The 
footsteps drew nearer, the door was opened with a hasty hand, 
and the child herself, pale and breathless, hurried into the 
room. 

" Miss Nelly ! What is the matter ? " cried mother and 
son together. 

" I must not stay a moment," she returned, " grandfather 
has been taken very ill. I found him in a fit upon the 
floor." 

"I'll run for a doctor- — " said Kit, seizing his brimless 
hat. " I '11 be there directly, I '11 — " 

" No, no," cried Nell, " there is one there, you 're not 
wanted, you — you — must never come near us any more ! " 

" What ! " roared Kit. 

" Never again," said the child. " Don't ask me why, for 
I don't know. Pray don't ask me why, pray don't be sorry, 
pray don't be vexed with me ! I have nothing to do with it 
indeed ! 

126 



KIT NUBBLES 

" He complains of you and raves of you," added the 
child, " I don't know what you have done, but I hope it 's 
nothing very bad." 

"/done ! " roared Kit. 

"He cries that you're the cause of all his misery," re- 
turned the child, with tearful eyes. " He screamed and called 
for you ; they say you must not come near him, or -he will die. 
You must not return to us any more. I came to tell you. I 
thought it would be better that I should. Oh, Kit, what have 
you done ? You, in whom I trusted so much, and who were 
almost the only friend I had ! " 

The unfortunate Kit looked at his young mistress harder 
and harder, and with eyes growing wider and wider, but was 
perfectly motionless and still. 

" I have brought his money for the week," said the child, 
looking to the woman, and laying it on the table, — "and — 
and — a little more, for he was always good and kind to me. 
I hope he will be sorry and do well somewhere else and not 
take this to heart too much. It grieves me very much to part 
with him like this, but there is no help. It must be done. 
Good-night ! " 

With the tears streaming down her face, and her slight 
figure trembling with intense agitation, the child hastened 
to the door, and disappeared as rapidly as she had come. 

The poor woman, who had no cause to doubt her son, but 
every reason for relying on his honesty and truth, was staggered, 
notwithstanding, by his not having advanced one word in his 
own defence. 

Visions of gallantry, knavery, robbery, flocked into her 
brain and rendered her afraid to question him. She rocked 
herself upon a chair, wringing her hands and weeping bitterly. 
The baby in the cradle woke up and cried ; the boy in the 
clothes-basket fell over on his back with the basket on 

127 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

him, and was seen no more ; the mother wept louder yet and 
rocked faster ; but Kit, insensible to all the din and tumult, 
remained in a state of utter stupefaction. 

Of course, after that there was nothing for him to do 
but to keep as far away as possible from the shop, which 
he did, except in the evenings, when he often stole beneath 
Nell's window on a chance of merely seeing her. One night 
he was rewarded by a scrap of whispered conversation with 
her from her window. She told him how sick her grand- 
father had been, and over and over Kit reiterated all there 
was for him to say — that he had done nothing to cause that 
sickness. 

" He '11 be sure to get better now," said the boy, anxiously, 
"when he does, say a good word — say a kind word for me, 
Miss Nell ! " 

" They tell me I must not even mention your name 
to him for a long, long time," rejoined the child, 
dare not ; and even if I might, what good would a kind word 
do you, Kit ? We shall be very poor they say. We shall 
scarcely have bread to eat, for everything has been taken 
from us." 

"It's not that I may be taken back," said the boy. 
" No, it's not that. It is n't for the sake of food and wage?; 
that I Ve been waiting about in hopes of seeing you. Don'': 
think that I 'd come in a time of trouble to talk of such things 
as them. It 's something very different from that. Perhaps 
he might think it over-venturesome of me to say — well then, 
— to say this," said Kit, with sudden boldness. " This home 
is gone from you and him. Mother and I have got a poor 
one, and why not come there, till he 's had time to look about 
and find a better? You think," said the boy, "that it's 
very small and inconvenient. So it is, but it 's very clean. 
Do try, Miss Nell, do try. The little front room upstairs 

128 



KIT NUBBLES 

is very pleasant. Mother says it would be just the thing for 
you, and so it would ; and you 'd have her to wait upon you 
both, and me to run errands. We don't mean money, bless 
you ; you 're not to think of that ! Will you try him, Miss 
Neil ? Only say you '11 try him. Do try to make old master 
come, and ask him first what I have done. Will you only 
promise that, Miss Nell ? " 

The street door opened suddenly just then, and, conscious 
that they were overheard, Nell closed her window quickly, 
and Kit stole away. And that was his last view of his beloved 
mistress, for shortly afterwards the Old Curiosity Shop was 
vacant of its tenants. Little Nell and her grandfather had 
quietly slipped away, under cover of night, to face their pov- 
erty in a new place ; where, no one knew or could find out ; 
and all that remained to Kit to remind him of his past, was 
Nell's bird, which he rescued from the shop, (now in Quilp's 
hands), took home, and hung in his window, to the immeasur- 
able delight of his whole family. 

It now remained for Kit to find a new situation, and he 
roamed the city in search of one daily. He was quite tired 
out with pacing the streets, to say nothing of repeated dis- 
appointments, and was sitting down upon a step to rest, 
one day, when there approached towards him a little clattering, 
jingling, four-wheeled chaise, drawn by a little obstinate-look- 
ing, rough-coated pony, and driven by a little placid-faced 
old gentleman. Beside the little old gentleman sat a little 
old lady, plump and placid like himself. As they passed 
where he sat, Kit looked so wistfully at the little turnout, 
that the old gentleman looked at him. Kit rising and 
putting his hand to his hat, the old gentleman intimated 
to the pony that he wished to stop, to which proposal the 
pony graciously acceded. 

" I beg your pardon, sir," said Kit. " I 'm sorry you 

9 129 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

stopped, sir, I only meant, did you want your horse 
minded. " 

" I 'm going to get down in the next street," returned 
the old gentleman. " If you like to come on after us, you 
may have the job." 

Kit thanked him, and joyfully obeyed, and held the 
refractory little beast until the little old lady and little old 
gentleman came out, and the old gentleman, taking his seat 
and the reins again, put his hand in his pocket to find a six- 
pence for Kit. Not a sixpence could he find, and he thought 
a shilling too much, but there was no shop in the street to get 
change at, so he gave it to the boy. 

" There," he said jokingly, " I 'm coming here again next 
Monday at the same time, and mind you 're here, my lad, to 
work it out ! " 

" Thank you, sir," said Kit, " I '11 be sure to be here." 

He was quite serious, but they laughed heartily at his 
saying so, and then the pony started off on a brisk trot, and 
Kit was left alone. Having expended his treasure in such 
purchases as he knew would be most acceptable at home, not 
forgetting some seed for the bird, he hastened back as fast 
as he could. 

Day after day, as he bent his steps homeward, returning 
from some new effort to procure employment, Kit raised his 
eyes to the window of the little room he had so much com- 
mended to the child Nell, and hoped to see some indication 
of her presence. 

" I think they must certainly come to-morrow, eh, moth- 
er ? " said Kit, laying aside his hat with a weary air, and 
sighing as he spoke. " They have been gone a week. They 
surely could n't stop away more than a week, could they 
now ? " 

The mother shook her head, and reminded him how often 

130 



KIT NUBBLES 

he had been disappointed already, and Kit, looking very 
mournful, clambered up to the nail, took down the cage, and 
set himself to clean it, and to feed the bird. His thoughts 
reverting from this occupation to the little old gentleman 
who had given him the shilling, he suddenly recollected that 
that was the very day — nay, nearly the very hour — at which the 
old gentleman had said he should be at the Notary's office 
again. He no sooner remembered this, than hastily explain- 
ing the nature of his errand, he went off at full speed to the 
appointed place, and although when he arrived there it was 
full two minutes after the time set, there was as yet no pony- 
chaise to be seen. Greatly relieved, Kit leaned against a 
lamp-post to take breath, and waited. Before long the pony 
came trotting round the corner of the street, and behind him 
sat the little old gentleman, and the little old lady. 

Upon the pony's refusing to stand at the proper place, the 
old gentleman alighted to lead him ; whereupon the pony 
darted off with the old lady, and stopped at the right house, 
leaving the old gentleman to come panting on behind. 

It was then that Kit presented himself at the pony's head, 
and touched his hat with a smile. 

" Why, bless me," cried the old gentleman, C£ the lad is 
here ! My dear, do you see ? " 

" I said I 'd be here, sir," said Kit, patting Whisker's neck. 
" I hope you 've had a pleasant ride, sir. He 's a very nice 
little pony." 

" My dear," said the old gentleman. " This is an uncom- 
mon lad ; a good lad, I 'm sure." 

" I 'm sure he is," rejoined the old lady. " A very good 
lad, and I am sure he is a good son." 

Kit acknowledged these expressions of confidence by touch- 
ing his hat again and blushing very much. Then the old 
gentleman helped the old lady out, and they went into the 

I3 1 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

office — talking about him as they went, Kit could not help 
feeling, and a few minutes later he was called in. . 

Kit entered in a great tremor, for he was not used to going 
among strange ladies and gentlemen, and the tin boxes and 
bundles of dusty papers had in his eyes an awful and a vener- 
able air. Mr. Witherden, the notary, was a bustling gen- 
tleman, who talked loud and fast. 

" Well, boy," said Mr. Witherden, "you came to work out 
that shilling, — not to get another, hey ? " 

" No indeed, sir," replied Kit, taking courage to look up. 
" I never thought of such a thing." 

" Now," said the old gentleman, Mr. Garland, when they 
had asked some further questions of Kit, " I am not going 
to give you anything." " But," he added, " perhaps I may 
want to know something more about you, so tell me where 
you live." 

Kit told him, and the old gentleman wrote down the ad- 
dress with his pencil. He had scarcely done so, than there 
was a great uproar in the street, and the old lady, hurrying to 
the window, cried that Whisker had run away, upon which Kit 
darted out to the rescue, and the others followed. Even in 
running away, however, Whisker was perverse, for he had 
not gone far when he suddenly stopped. The old lady then 
stepped into her seat, and Mr. Abel, her son, whom they had 
come to fetch, into his. The old gentleman took his place 
also, and they drove away, more than once turning to nod 
kindly to Kit, as he watched them from the road. 

When Kit reached home, to his amazement he found the 
pony and his owners there too. 

" We are here before you, you see, Christopher," said 
Mr. Garland, smiling. 

fC Yes, sir," said Kit, and as he said it, he looked towards 
his mother for an explanation of the visit. 

132 



KIT NUBBLES 

" The gentleman 's been kind enough, my dear/' said she, 
<c to ask me whether you were in a good place, or in any place at 
all, and when I told him no, he was so good as to say that — " 

" That we wanted a good lad in our house," said the old 
lady and the old gentleman both together, " and that perhaps 
we might think of it, if we found everything as we would wish 
it to be." 

As this thinking of it plainly meant the thinking of engaging 
Kit, he immediately fell into a great flutter ; for the little old 
couple were very methodical and cautious, and asked so many 
questions that he began to be afraid there was no chance of his 
success ; but to his surprise at last he found himself formally 
hired at an annual income of Six Pounds, over and above his 
board and lodging, by Mr. and Mrs. Garland, of Abel Cottage, 
Finchley ; and it was settled that he should repair to his new 
abode on the next day but one. 

(C Well, mother," said Kit, hurrying back into the house, 
after he had seen the old people to their carriage, " I think my 
fortune 's about made now." 

" I should think it was indeed, Kit ! " rejoined his mother. 
" Six pound a year ! Only think ! " 

" Ah ! " said Kit, trying to maintain the gravity which the 
consideration of such a sum demanded, but grinning with de- 
light in spite of himself. " There 's a property ! Please God, 
we '11 make such a lady of you for Sundays, mother ! such a 
scholar of Jacob, such a child of the baby, such a room of the 
one upstairs ! Six pound a year ! " 

The remainder of that day, and the whole of the next, were 
a busy time for the Nubbles family, to whom everything con- 
nected with Kit's outfit and departure was matter of as great 
moment as if he had been about to penetrate into the interior 
of Africa, or to take a cruise round the world. It would be 
difficult to suppose that there ever was a box which was opened 

*33 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

and shut so many times within four-and-twenty hours as that 
which contained his wardrobe and necessaries ; and certainly 
there never was one which to two small eyes presented such a 
mine of clothing as this mighty chest, with its three shirts, and 
proportionate allowance of stockings and pocket-handkerchiefs, 
disclosed to the astonished vision of little Jacob. 

At last, after many kisses and hugs and tears, Kit left 
the house on the next morning, and set out to walk to 
Finchley. 

He wore no livery, but was dressed in a coat of pepper- 
and-salt, with waistcoat of canary colour, and nether garments 
of iron-grey ; besides these glories, he shone in the lustre of a 
new pair of boots and an extremely stiff and shiny hat. And 
in this attire, rather wondering that he attracted so little atten- 
tion, he made his way towards Abel Cottage. 

It was a beautiful little cottage, with a thatched roof and 
little spires at the gable-ends, and pieces of stained glass in 
some of the windows. On one side of the house was a little 
stable, just the size for the pony, with a little room over it, just 
the size for Kit. White curtains were fluttering, and birds in 
cages were singing at the windows ; plants were arranged on 
either side of the path, and clustered about the door ; and the 
garden was bright with flowers in full bloom, which shed a 
sweet odour all around. 

Everything within the house and without seemed to be the 
perfection of neatness and order. Kit looked about him, and 
admired, and looked again, before he could make up his mind 
to turn his head and ring the bell. 

He rung the bell a great many times, and yet nobody came. 
But at last, as he was sitting upon the box thinking about 
giants' castles, and princesses tied up to pegs by the hair of 
their heads, and dragons bursting out from behind gates, and 
other incidents of a like nature, common in story-books to 

i34 



KIT NUBBLES 

youths on their first visit to strange houses, the door was gently- 
opened, and a little servant-girl, very tidy, modest, and pretty, 
appeared. 

" I suppose you 're Christopher, sir ? " said the servant- 
girl. 

Kit got off the box, and said yes, he was, and was 
ushered in. 

The old gentleman received him very kindly, and so did 
the old lady, whose previous good opinion of him was greatly 
enhanced by his wiping his boots on the mat. He was then 
taken into the parlour to be inspected in his new clothes ; and 
then was shown the garden and his little room, and when the 
old gentleman had said all he had to say in the way of promise 
and advice, and Kit had said all he had to say in the way of 
assurance and thankfulness, he was handed over again to the 
old lady, who, summoning the little servant-girl (whose name 
was Barbara), instructed her to take him downstairs and give 
him something to eat and drink after his walk. 

From that time Kit's was a useful, pleasant life, moving on 
in a peaceful routine of duties and innocent joys from day to 
day, and from week to week, — until the great, longed-for 
epoch of his life arrived — the day of receiving, for the first 
time, one-fourth part of his annual income of Six Pounds. 
It was to be a half-holiday, devoted to a whirl of entertain- 
ments, and little Jacob was to know what oysters meant, and 
to see a play. 

The day arrived, and was n't Mr. Garland kind when he 
said to him, — " Christopher, here 's your money, and you 
have earned it well;" — which praise in itself was worth as 
much as his wages. 

Then the play itself! The horses which little Jacob believed 
from the first to be alive, — and the ladies and gentlemen, of 
whose reality he could be by no means persuaded, having never 

i35 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

seen or heard anything at all like them — the firing, which made 
Barbara (who had a holiday too) wink — the forlorn lady who 
made her cry — the tyrant who made her tremble — the clown 
who ventured on such familiarities with the military man in 
boots — the lady who jumped over the nine-and-twenty ribbons 
and came down safe upon the horse's back — everything was 
delightful, splendid, and surprising! Little Jacob applauded 
until his hands were sore ; Kit cried " an-kor " at the end of 
everything ; and Barbara's mother beat her umbrella on the 
floor, in her ecstasies, until it was nearly worn down to the 
gingham. 

What was all this though — even all this — to the extraor- 
dinary dissipation that ensued, when Kit, walking into an 
oyster-shop, as bold as if he lived there, led his party into a 
box — a private box, fitted up with red curtains, white table- 
cloth, and cruet-stand complete — and ordered a fierce gentle- 
man with whiskers, who acted as waiter, and called him 
" Christopher Nubbles, sir," to bring three dozen of his 
largest-size oysters, and look sharp about it ! Then they fell 
to work upon the supper in earnest ; and ate and laughed and 
enjoyed themselves so thoroughly that it did Kit good to see 
them, and made him laugh and eat likewise, from strong sym- 
pathy. But the greatest miracle of the night was little Jacob, 
who ate oysters as if he had been born and bred to the business. 
There was the baby, too, who sat as good as gold, trying to 
force a large orange into his mouth, and gazing intently at the 
lights in the chandelier, — there he was, sitting in his mother's 
lap, and making indentations in his soft visage with an oyster- 
shell, so contentedly that a heart of iron must have loved him ! 
In short, there never was a more successful supper ; and when 
Kit proposed the health of Mrs. and Mr. Garland, there were 
not six happier people in the world. But all happiness has an 
end, and as it was now growing late, they agreed that it was 

136 



KIT NUBBLES 

time to turn their faces homeward — and the great day was at 
an end. 

One morning just before this, when Kit was out exer- 
cising the pony, he was called into the office where he had first 
seen Mr. and Mrs. Garland, to be examined by a strange gen- 
tleman concerning what he knew of little Nell and her grand- 
father. The gentleman told Kit that he was trying by every 
means in his power to discover their hiding-place ; and, finally, 
after Kit had repeated all that he could remember of the life 
and words of his beloved Miss Nelly and the old man, the 
stranger slipped a half-crown into his hand and dismissed him. 
The strange gentleman liked Kit so much that he desired to 
have him in his own service, but the boy stoutly refused to 
leave his kind employer. At Mr. Garland's suggestion, how- 
ever, he offered his services to the stranger for an hour or two 
every day, and from that came trouble to Kit. 

Each day, going up and down, to and from the stranger's 
room, he had to pass through the office of one Sampson Brass, 
attorney ; who, through the agency of Quilp, who was Sampson 
Brass's best client, was prejudiced against Kit, and pledged to 
the little dwarf to do him all the injury that he could, for veno- 
mous little Quilp had never forgiven the boy who had been 
connected with his ruined client, and had called him "the 
ugliest dwarf to be seen for a penny " ; and he desired ven- 
geance at any cost. t 

Every time that Kit passed through the office, Mr. Brass 
spoke kindly to him, and not seldom gave him half-crowns, 
which made Kit, who from the first had disliked the man, 
think that he had misjudged him. Then one day when Kit 
had been minding the office a few moments for Mr. Brass, 
and was running towards home, in haste to do his work there, 
Mr. Brass and his clerk, Dick Swiveller, rushed out after him. 

" Stop ! " cried Sampson, laying his hand on one shoulder, 

i37 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

while Mr. Swiveller pounced upon the other. " Not so fast, 
sir. You 're in a hurry ? " 

" Yes. I am," said Kit, looking from one to the other in 
great surprise. 

"I — I — can hardly believe it," panted Sampson, " but 
something of value is missing from the office. I hope you 
don't know what." 

" Know what ! good heaven, Mr. Brass ! " cried Kit, 
trembling from head to foot ; " you don't suppose — " 

" No, no," rejoined Brass, quickly, " I don't suppose any- 
thing. You will come back quietly, I hope ? " 

" Of course I will," returned Kit. " Why not ? " 

Kit did turn from white to red, and from red to white 
again, when they secured him, each by an arm, and for a mo- 
ment he seemed disposed to resist. But, quickly recollecting 
himself, and remembering that if he made any struggle, he 
would perhaps be dragged by the collar through the public 
streets, he suffered them to lead him off. 

c< Now, you know," said Brass, when they had entered the 
office, and locked the door, " if this is a case of innocence, 
Christopher, the fullest disclosure is the best satisfaction for 
everybody. Therefore, if you '11 consent to an examination, it 
will be a comfortable and pleasant thing for all parties." 

" SEARCH ME" said Kit, proudly, holding up his arms. 
" But mind, sir, — I know you '11 be sorry for this to the last 
day of your life." 

" It is certainly a very painful occurrence," said Brass, 
with a sigh, but commencing the search with vigour. All at 
once an exclamation from Dick Swiveller and Miss Brass, 
Sampson's sister, who was also present, cut the lawyer short. 
He turned his head, and saw Dick, who had been holding 
Kit's hat, standing with the missing bank-note in his hand. 

" In the hat ? " cried Brass, in a sort of shriek. 

138 



KIT NUBBLES 

" Under the handkerchiefs and tucked beneath the lining" said 
Mr. Swiveller, aghast, at the discovery. Mr. Brass looked at 
him, at his sister, at the walls, at the ceiling, at the floor, 
everywhere but at Kit, who stood quite stupefied and mo- 
tionless. 

Like one entranced, he stood, eyes wide opened, and fixed 
upon the ground, until the constable came, and he found him- 
self being driven away in a coach, to the jail, where he was 
lodged for the night — still dazed by the terrible change in 
his affairs. 

It was a long night, but Kit slept, and dreamed too — 
always of being at liberty. At last the morning dawned, and 
the turnkey who came to unlock his cell, and show him where 
to wash, told him that there was a regular time for visiting 
every day, and that if any of his friends came to see him, he 
would be fetched down to the grate, and that he was lodged 
apart from the mass of prisoners, because he was not supposed 
to be utterly depraved and irreclaimable. Kit was thankful 
for this indulgence, and sat reading the Church Catechism, 
until the man entered again. 

" Now then," he said. " Come on ! " 

" Where to, sir ? " asked Kit. 

The man contented himself by briefly replying " Wisitorsi" 
and led Kit down behind a grating, outside which, and be- 
yond a railing, Kit saw with a palpitating heart, his mother 
with the baby in her arms ; and poor little Jacob, who, when 
he saw his brother, and thrusting his arms between the rails 
to hug him, found that he came no nearer, began to cry most 
piteously, whereupon Kit's mother burst out sobbing and 
weeping afresh. Poor Kit could not help joining them, and 
not a word was spoken for some time. 

" Oh, my darling Kit!" said his mother at last. "That 
I should see my poor boy here ! " 

x 39 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

" You don't believe that I did what they accuse me of, 
mother, dear ? " cried Kit, in a choking voice. 

" I, believe it ! " exclaimed the poor woman. " I, that 
never knew you tell a lie or do a bad action from your cradle. 
I believe it of the son that 's been a comfort to me from the 
hour of his birth until this time ! / believe it of you, Kit ! " 

<c Why then, thank God ! " said Kit. " Come what may, 
I shall always have one drop of happiness in my heart when 
I think that you said that." 

At this the poor woman fell a-crying again, and soon, all 
too soon, the turnkey cried " Time 's up ! " and Kit was taken 
off in an instant, with a blessing from his mother and a scream 
from little Jacob ringing in his ears. 

Eight weary days dragged themselves along, and on the 
ninth the case of Christopher Nubbles came up in Court ; and 
the aforesaid Christopher was called upon to plead guilty or 
not guilty to an indictment for that he, the aforesaid Christo- 
pher, did feloniously abstract and steal from the dwelling-house 
and office of one Sampson Brass, gentleman, one bank-note 
for five pounds, issued for Governor and Company of the 
Bank of England. 

By a cleverly worked-up case on his opponent's side, Kit 
is so cross-examined as to be found guilty by the jury, and is 
sentenced to be transported for a term of years. 

Kit's mother, poor woman, is waiting, and when the news 
is told a sad interview ensues. " He never did it I " she cries. 

" Well," says the turnkey, " I won't contradict you. It 's 
all one now, whether he did it or not." 

" Some friend will rise up for us, mother," cried Kit. " I 
am sure. If not now, before long. My innocence will come 
out, mother, and I shall be brought back again, I feel confi- 
dent of that. You must teach little Jacob and the baby how 
all this was, for if they thought I had ever been dishonest, 

140 



KIT NUBBLES 

when they grew old enough to understand, it would break my 
heart to know it, if I was thousands of miles away. Oh, is 
there no good gentleman here who will take care of her ! " . 

In all Kit's life that was the darkest moment, when he 
saw his mother led away, half fainting, and heard the grating 
of his cell door as he entered — entangled in a network of 
false evidence and treachery from which there seemed no way 
of escape. 

Meanwhile, however, while Kit was being found guilty, a 
young servant in the employ of the Brasses was also guilty 
of listening at keyholes, listening to a conversation which was 
not intended for her ears, in which she heard the entire plot 
by which Mr. Brass had entrapped and condemned Kit. 
How he had himself placed the money in Kit's hat while it 
lay upon the office table ; and how the whole plan had been 
successful. The small servant, friendly to Kit, and hating her 
employers, lost no time in repeating what she had heard to 
Mr. Garland, and he, the notary, and the strange gentleman, 
after carefully arranging their plan, confronted the Brasses 
with evidence of their guilt so overwhelmingly true, that they 
could do nothing but confess their crime, and Kit's innocence, 
while Mr. Garland hastened to him with the glad news of his 
freedom. 

Lighted rooms, bright fires, cheerful faces, the music of 
glad voices, words of love and welcome, warm hearts and tears 
of happiness — what a change is this ! But it is to such de- 
lights that Kit is hastening. They are awaiting him, he 
knows. He fears he will die of joy before he gets among 
them. 

When they are drawing near their journey's end he begs 
they may go more slowly, and when the house appears in 
sight that they may stop, — only for a minute or two, to give 
him time to breathe. 

141 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

But there is no stopping then, for they are already at the 
garden gate. Next minute they are at the door. There is a 
noise of tongues and a tread of feet inside. It opens. Kit 
rushes in and finds his mother clinging round his neck. And 
there is Mrs. Garland, neater and nicer than ever, fainting 
away stone dead with nobody to help her ; and there is Mr. 
Abel violently blowing his nose and wanting to embrace 
everybody ; and there is the strange gentleman hovering 
round them all, and there is that good, dear little Jacob sitting 
all alone by himself on the bottom stair, with his hands on 
his knees, like an old man, roaring fearfully without giving 
any trouble to anybody ; and each and all of them are for the 
time clean out of their wits. 

Well ! In the next room there are decanters of wine, and 
all that sort of thing set out as grand as if Kit and his friends 
were first-rate company ; and there is little Jacob walking, 
as the popular phrase is, into a home-made plum cake at 
a most surprising rate, and keeping his eye on the figs 
and oranges which are to follow. 

Kit no sooner comes in than the strange gentleman drinks 
his health, and tells him he shall never want a friend as long as 
he lives, and so does Mr. Garland, and so does Mrs. Garland, 
and so does Mr. Abel. But even this honour and distinction 
is not all, for the strange gentleman forthwith pulls out of 
his pocket a massive silver watch — and upon the back of 
this watch is engraved Kit's name with flourishes all over — 
and in short it is Kit's watch, bought expressly for him. Mr. 
and Mrs. Garland can't help hinting about their present, 
in store, and Mr. Abel tells outright that he has his ; and 
Kit is the happiest of the happy. 

There is one friend that Kit has not seen yet, and he takes 
the first opportunity of slipping away and hurrying to the 
stable, and when Kit goes up to caress and pat him, the pony 

142 



KIT NUBBLES 

rubs his nose against his coat and fondles him more lovingly 
than ever pony fondled man. It is the crowning circum- 
stance of his earnest, heartfelt reception ; and Kit fairly puts 
his arm round Whisker's neck and hugs him. 

Happy Christopher! — the darkest days of his life are 
past — the brightest are yet to be. Let us wish him all joy 
and prosperity and leave him on the threshold of manhood ! 



143 



JO, THE CROSSING SWEEPER 



145 



; 




Jo, the Crossing Sweeper. 



JO, THE CROSSING SWEEPER 



JO lives in a ruinous place, known to the likes of him by 
the name of Tom-all-Alone's. It is a black dilapidated 
street, avoided by all decent people ; where the crazy 
houses were seized upon when their decay was far 
advanced, by some bold vagrants, who, after establishing their 
possession, took to letting them out in lodgings. 

Jo sweeps his crossing all day long, and if he is asked 
a question he replies that he " don't know nothink." He 
knows that it's hard to keep the mud off the crossing in 
dirty weather, and harder still to live by doing it. Nobody 
taught him that much — he found it out. 

Indeed, everything poor Jo knows he has had to find out 
for himself, for no one has even taken the trouble to tell him 
his real name. 

It must be a strange state to be like Jo, not to know the 
feeling of a whole suit of clothes — to wear even in summer 
the same queer remnant of a fur cap ; to be always dirty and 
ragged ; to shuffle through the streets, unfamiliar with the 
shapes, and in utter darkness as to the meaning, of those 
mysterious symbols so abundant over the doors and at 
corners of the streets, and on the doors and in the windows. 
To see people read, and to see people write, and to see 
the postman deliver letters, and not to have the least idea of 
all that language, — to be to all of it stone blind and dumb. 

It must be very puzzling to be hustled and jostled, and 
moved on, and to really feel that I have no business here or 
there or anywhere ; and yet to be perplexed by the considera- 

i47 



\] 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

tion that I am here somehow, too, and everybody overlooked 
me until I became the. creature that I am. 

One cold winter night when Jo was shivering near his 
crossing, a stranger passed him ; turned, looked at him in- 
tently, then came back and began to ask him questions from 
which he found out that Jo had not a friend in the world. 

" Neither have I, not one," added the man, and gave him 
the price of a supper and lodging. And from that day Jo was 
no longer friendless, for the stranger often spoke to him, and 
asked him whether he slept sound at night, and how he bore 
cold and hunger ; and whether he ever wished to die ; and 
other strange questions. Then when the man had no money 
he would say, " I am as poor as you to-day, Jo," but when he 
had any he always shared it with Jo. 

But there came a time not long after this, when the 
stranger was found dead in his bed, in the house of Crook, the 
rag-and-bottle merchant, where he had lodgings ; and nothing 
could be found out about his life or the reason for his sudden 
death. So a jury had to be brought together to ferret out the 
mystery, if possible, and to discover whether the man's death 
was accidental or whether he died by his own hand. No one 
knew him, and he had never been seen talking to a human 
soul except the boy that swept the crossing, down the lane 
over the way, round the corner, — otherwise Jo. 

So Jo was called in as a witness at the inquest. Says the 
coroner, " Is that boy here ? " 

Says the beadle, " No, sir, he is not here." 

Says the coroner, " Go and fetch him then." 

" Oh, here 's the boy, gentlemen ! " 

Here he is, very muddy, very hoarse, very ragged. Now, 
boy ! But stop a minute. Caution. This boy must be put 
through a few preliminary paces. 

Name Jo. Nothink else that he- knows on. Don't know 

148 



JO, THE CROSSING SWEEPER 

that everybody has two names. Don't know that Jo is short 
for a longer name. Thinks it long enough for him. Spell it ? 
No. He can't spell it. No father, no mother, no friends. 
Never been to school. What 's home ? Knows a broom 's a 
broom, and knows it 's wicked to tell a lie. Don't recollect 
who told him about the broom or about the lie, but knows 
both. Can't exactly say what '11 be done to him after he's 
dead if he tells a lie to the gentleman here, but believes it '11 
be something wery bad to punish him, and so he '11 tell the 
truth. " He wos wery good to me, he wos," added the boy, 
wiping his eyes with his wretched sleeves. " When I see 
him a-laying so stritched out just now, I wished he could 
have heerd me tell him so. He wos wery good to me, he 
wos." 

The jury award their verdict of accidental death, and the 
stranger is hurried into a pine box and into an obscure corner 
of that great home for the friendless and unmourned, — the 
Potter's field, — and night falls, hiding from sight the new- 
made grave. 

With the night comes a slouching figure through the tunnel 
court, to the outside of the iron gate of the Potter's field. It 
holds the gate with its hands, and looks in between the bars. 
Stands looking in for a little while. It then takes an old 
broom it carries, softly sweeps the step, and makes the arch- 
way clean. It does so very busily and trimly ; looks in again 
a little while, and so departs. 

Jo, is it thou ? Well, well ? 

Though thou art neither a gentleman nor the son of a gen- 
tleman, there is an expression of gratitude and of loyalty, 
worthy of gentle blood, indicative of noble character, in thy 
muttered reason for this : — 

" He wos wery good to me, he wos." 

Once more without a friend, Jo sweeps his crossing day 

149 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

after day. Before the stranger came into his life, he had 
drifted along in his accustomed place, more unreasoning than 
an intelligent dog ; but the hand of a human comrade had been 
laid in his, and it had awakened his humanity ; and now as he 
sweeps he thinks — about the stranger — wonders where he 
has gone to, and how he died. 

As it seemed to Jo that the world was bounded on all sides 
by the events in Tom-all-Alone's, he was not at all surprised 
one day to have another stranger come to his crossing and ask 
him many questions concerning the dead man. He was glad 
to talk of him, to tell again all that he knew of his life and 
death, and to show where they had buried him. The inter- 
view over, Jo is overwhelmed to find his hand closed over a 
piece of money larger than he has ever owned before. 

His first proceeding is to hold the piece of money to the gas- 
light, and to be overpowered at finding that it- is yellow gold. 
His next is to give it a one-sided bite at the edge, as a test of 
its quality. His next, to put it in his mouth for safety, and to 
sweep the step and passage with great care. His job done, he 
sets off for Tom^H-Alone's, stopping in the light of innumer- 
able gas-lamps to produce the piece of gold, and give it another 
one-sided bite as a reassurance of its being genuine ; and then 
shuffles off, back to his crossing ; little dreaming — poor Jo ! — 
that because of his presence at the inquest, and because of this 
interview, the rest of his existence is to be even more wretched 
than his past has been. He little dreams that persons great 
and powerful in the outer world were connected with the secret 
of his friend's life and death ; but it is even so, and those who 
fear to have anything brought to light concerning him, hire 
officers to hunt Jo away from Tom-all-Alone's, — the only 
home he has ever known, — to keep him as far out of reach as 
possible, because he knew more about the stranger than any 
one else. He does not understand it at all, but from that 

150 



JO, THE CROSSING SWEEPER 

minute there seems always to be an officer in sight telling him 
to " move on." 

At a summons to his shop one day, Mr. Snagsby, the 
law-stationer (in whose employ the dead man was, and who 
has always been kind to Jo when chance has thrown him in 
his way), descends to find a police constable holding a ragged 
boy by the arm. "Why, bless my heart," says Mr. Snagsby, 
" what 's the matter ? " 

" This boy," says the constable, calmly, " although he 's 
repeatedly told to, won't move on." 

" I 'm always a-moving on, sir," cries the boy, wiping away 
his grimy tears with his arm. " Where can I possibly move 
to more nor I do ? " 

" Don't you come none of that, or I shall make blessed 
short work of you," says the constable, giving him a passion- 
less shake. "My instructions are that you are to move on." 

" But where ? " cries the boy. 

" Well, really, constable, you know," says Mr. Snagsby, 
" really that does seem a question. Where, you know ? " 

" My instructions don't go to that," replies the constable. 
" My instructions are that this boy is to move on, and the 
sooner you 're five miles away the better for all parties." 

Jo shuffles away from the spot where he has been standing, 
picking bits of fur from his cap and putting them in his mouth ; 
but before he goes Mr. Snagsby loads him with some broken 
meats from the table, which he carries away hugging in his 
arms. 

Jo goes on, down to Blackfriars Bridge, where he finds a 
baking stony corner wherein to settle his repast. There he 
sits munching and gnawing — the sun going down, the river 
running fast, the crowd flowing by him in two streams — 
everything passing on to some purpose, and to one end, 
until he is stirred up, and told to move on again. 

151 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

Desperate with being moved on so many times, Jo tramps 
out of London down to St. Albans, where, exhausted from 
hunger and from exposure to extreme cold, he takes refuge in 
the cottage of a bricklayer's wife. A young lady who happens 
to be making a charity call on the woman in the cottage — sees 
his feverish, excited condition, and questions him. 

" I am a-being froze," said the boy hoarsely, with his hag- 
gard gaze wandering about. " And then burnt up, and then 
froze, and then burnt up, ever so many times in an hour, and 
my head's all sleepy, and all a-going mad like — I 'm so dry 
— : and my bones is n't half as much bones as pains." 

" When did he come from London ? " the young lady 
asked. 

" I come from London yesterday," said the boy himself, 
now flushed and hot. " I 'm a-going somewheres. Some- 
wheres," he repeated in a louder tone. " I have been 
moved on and moved on, more nor I wos afore. Mrs. 
Snagsby, she 's alius a-watching and a-driving of me. What 
have I done to her ? And they 're all a-watching and a- 
driving of me. Everyone of them 's doing of it from the 
time when I don't get up to the time when I don't go to 
bed. And I 'm a-going somewheres, that's where I'm 
a-going ! " 

So in an oblivious half-insensible way he shuffled out of 
the house. The young lady hurried after him, and presently 
came up with him. He must have begun his journey with 
c ome small bundle under his arm, and must have lost it or had 
it stolen, for he still carried his wretched fragment of a fur cap 
like a bundle, though he went bareheaded through the rain, 
which now fell fast. 

He stopped when she called him, standing with his lustrous 
eyes fixed on her, and even arrested in his shivering fit. She 
urged him to go with her, and though at first he shook his 

152 



JO, THE CROSSING SWEEPER 

head, at last he turned and followed her. She led the way to 
her home, where the servants, sorry for his pitiable condition, 
made a bed for him in a warm loft-room by the stable, where 
he was safely housed for the night and cared for. 

The next morning the young lady was awakened at an early 
hour by an unusual noise outside her window, and called out to 
one of the men to know the meaning of it. 

"It's the boy, miss," said he. 

" Is he worse ?" she asked. 

" Gone, miss ! " 

"Dead ? " 

" Dead, miss ? No. Gone clean off! " 

At what time of the night he had gone, or how or why, it 
seemed hopeless ever to divine. Every possible inquiry was 
made, and every place searched. The brick-kilns were ex- 
amined, the cottages were visited, the woman was particularly 
questioned, but she knew nothing of him ; the weather had 
been for some time too wet, and the night itself had been too 
wet, to admit of any tracing of footsteps. Hedge and ditch, 
and wall and rick, and stack were examined for a long distance 
round, lest the boy should be lying in such a place insensible 
or dead ; but nothing was seen to indicate that he had ever 
been near. From the time when he left the loft-room he 
vanished, and after five days the search was given up as hope- 
less. Where had poor Jo moved on to now ? 

For some time it seemed that no one would ever know, but 
at last, not so very long after this, a physician, Allan Wood- 
court by name — who had known something of Jo and his 
story — was wandering at night in the miserable streets of 
Tom-all-Alone's, impelled by curiosity to see its haunts by 
gas-light. After stopping to offer assistance to a woman 
sitting on a doorstep, who had evidently come a long distance, 
he walks away, and as he does so he sees a ragged figure 

i53 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

coming very cautiously along, crouching close to the walls. 
It is the figure of a youth whose face is hollow, and whose 
eyes have an emaciated glare. He is so intent on getting 
along unseen, that even the apparition of a stranger in whole 
garments does not tempt him to look back. Allan Woodcourt 
pauses to look after him, with a shadowy belief that he has 
seen the boy before. He cannot recall how or where, but 
there is some association in his mind with such a form. 

He is gradually emerging from Tom-all- Alone's in the 
morning light, thinking about it, when he hears running feet 
behind him, and, looking around, sees the boy scouring toward 
him at a great speed, followed by the woman. 

" Stop him ! stop him ! " cries the woman ; "stop him, sir ! " 

Allan, not knowing but that he has just robbed her of her 
money, follows in chase, and runs so hard that he runs the 
boy down a dozen times ; but each time the boy makes a 
curve, ducks, dives under his hands, and scours away 
again. At last the fugitive, hard pressed, takes to a narrow 
passage which has no thoroughfare. Here he is brought 
to bay, and tumbles down, lying down gasping at his pursuer 
until the woman comes up. 

" Oh you Jo," cries the woman, " what, I have found you 
at last ! " 

" Jo ? " repeats Allan, looking at him with attention, — 
" Jo ? Stay — to be sure, I recollect this lad, some time ago, 
being brought before the coroner ! " 

"Yes, I see you once afore at the Inkwich," whimpered 
the boy. cc What of that ? Can't you never let such an 
unfortnet as me alone ? An 't I unfortnet enough for you 
yet ? How unfortnet do you want me for to be ? I 've been 
a-chivied and a-chivied, fust by one on you and nixt by 
another on you, till I 'm worritted to skins and bones. The 
Inkwich war n't my fault; I done nothink. He wos very 

T 54 



JO, THE CROSSING SWEEPER 

good to me he wos ; he wos the only one I knowed to speak 
to me as ever come across my crossing. It ain't very likely 
I should want him to be Inkwich'd, I only wish I wos 
myself! " 

He says it with such a pitiable air that Allan Woodcourt 
is softened toward him. He says to the woman, " What has 
he done?" — to which she only replies, shaking her head, — 

" Oh you Jo ! you Jo ! I have found you at last ! " 

"What has he done?" says Allan. "Has he robbed 
you r 

"No, sir, no. Robbed me? He did nothing but what 
was kind-hearted by me, and that 's the wonder of it. But he 
was along with me, sir, down at St. Albans, ill, and a young 
lady — Lord bless her for a good friend to me ! — took pity 
on him and took him home — took him home and made him 
comfortable; and like a thankless monster he ran away in the 
night and never has been seen or heard from since, till I set 
eyes on him just now. And the young lady, that was such 
a pretty dear, caught his illness, lost her beautiful looks, 
and would n't hardly be known for the same young lady now. 
Do you know it ? You ungrateful wretch, do you know 
that this is all along of her goodness to you ? " demands the 
woman. 

The boy, stunned by what he hears, falls to smearing Ms 
dirty forehead with his dirty palm, and to staring at the ground, 
and to shaking from head to foot. 

" You hear what she says ! " Allan says to Joe. " You 
hear what she says, and I know it 's true. Have you been 
here ever since ? " 

" Wishermaydie if I seen Tom-all-Alone's till this blessed 
morning," replies Jo, hoarsely. 

" Why have you come here now ? " 

Jo looks all around and finally answers, " I don't know 

i55 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

how to do nothink and I can't get nothink to do. I 'm very 
poor and ill and I thought I 'd come back here when there war n't 
nobody about and lay down and hide somewheres as I knows 
on till arter dark, and then go and beg a trifle of Mr. Snagsby. 
He wos alius willing fur to give me something, he wos, though 
Mrs. Snagsby, she wos alius a-chivying me — like everybody 
every wheres." 

"Now, tell me," proceeds Allan, "tell me how it came 
about that you left that house when the good young lady had 
been so unfortunate as to pity you and take you home ? " 

•Jo suddenly came out of his resignation, and excitedly 
declares that he never known about the young lady ; that he 
would sooner have hurt his own self, and that he'd sooner 
have had his unfortnet head chopped o.ff than ever gone a-nigh 
her ; and that she wos wery good to him she wos. 

Allan Woodcourt sees that this is not a sham. 

"Come, Jo, tell me," he urged. 

" No, I durst n't," says Jo. " I durst n't or I would." 

" But I must know," returns Allan, " all the same. Come, 

Jo!" 

After two or three such adjurations, Jo lifts up his head 
again, and says in a low voice, cc Well, I '11 tell you something. 
I was took away. There ! " 

" Taken away ? — In the night ? " 

Ah ! very apprehensive of being overheard, Jo looks about 
him, and even glances up some ten feet at the top of the board- 
ing, and through the cracks in it, lest the object of his distrust 
should be looking over, or hidden on the other side. 

u Who took you away ? " 

" I durst n't name him," says Jo. " I durst n't do it, sir." 

" But I want, in the young lady's name, to know. You 
may trust me. No one else shall hear." 

" Ah, but I don't know," replies Jo, shaking his head fear- 

156 



JO, THE CROSSING SWEEPER 

fully, " as he don't hear. He 's in all manner of places all at 
wunst." 

Allan looks at him in perplexity, but discovers some real 
meaning at the bottom of this bewildering reply. He patiently 
awaits an explicit answer, and Jo, more baffled by his patience 
than by anything else, at last desperately whispers , a name in 
his ear. 

" Aye," says Allan. " Why, what had you been doing ? " 

" Nothink, sir. Never done nothink to get myself into 
no trouble 'cept in not moving on, andthe Inkwich. But I 'm 
moving on now. I'm moving on to the berryin'-ground — 
that 's the move as I 'm up to." 

" No, no. We will try to prevent that. But what did he 
do with you ? " 

" Put me in a horspittle," replies Jo, whispering, " till I 
wor discharged, then gave me a little money. c Nobody wants 
you here,' he ses. c You go and tramp,' he ses. c You move 
on,' he ses. ' Don't let me ever see you nowheres within forty 
mile of London, or you '11 repent it.' So I shall if ever he 
does see me, and he '11 see me if I 'm above ground," con- 
cludes Jo. 

Allan considers a little, then remarks, turning to the 
woman, cc He is not so ungrateful as you supposed. He had 
a reason for going away, though it was an insufficient one." 

xc Thank 'ee, sir, thank 'ee ! " exclaims Jo. " There, now, 
see how hard you was on me. But on'y you tell the young 
lady wot the genlmn ses, and it 's all right. For you wos wery 
good to me, too, and I knows it." 

" Now, Jo," says Allan, cc come with me and I will find 
you a better place than this to lie down and hide in." 

And Jo, repeating, " On'y you tell the young lady as I 
never went for to hurt her, and what the genlmn ses," nods 
and shambles and shivers and smears and blinks, and half- 

i57 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

laughs and half-cries a farewell to the woman, and takes his 
creeping way after Allan Woodcourt. 

In a quiet, decent place, among people whom he knows 
will only treat the boy with kindness, Allan finds Jo a room. 

" Look here, Jo," says Allan, " this is Mr. George. He 
is a kind friend to you, for he is going to give you a lodging 
here. You are quite safe here. All you have to do at pres- 
ent is to be obedient, and to get strong ; and mind you tell us 
the truth here, whatever you do, Jo." 

" Wishermaydie if I don't, sir," says Jo, reverting to his 
favourite declaration. " I never done nothink yet but wot you 
knows on to get myself into no trouble. I never wos in no 
other trouble at all, sir, 'cept not knowing nothink and star- 
wation." 

" I believe it," said Allan ; " and now you must lie down 
and rest." 

" Let me lay here quiet, and not be chivied any more," 
falters Jo, after he has been assisted to his bed and given med- 
icine ; " and be so kind any person as is a-passing nigh where 
I used fur to sweep, as to say to Mr. Snagsby that Jo, wot 
he knowed wunst, is a-movin' on right forards with his duty, 
and I '11 be wery thankful ! " 

At the boy's request, later, Mr. Snagsby is sent for, and Jo 
is very glad to see his old friend, and says when they are alone 
that he " takes it uncommon kind as Mr. Snagsby should come 
so far out of his way on account of sich as him." 

" Mr. Snagsby," says Jo, " I went and give an illness to a 
lady, and none of 'em never says nothink to me for having 
done it, on account of their being so good and my having been 
so unfortnet. The lady come herself and see me yes'day, and 
she ses, c Jo/ she ses, c we thought we 'd lost you, Jo,' she ses ; 
and she sits down a-smilin' so quiet, and don't pass a word nor 
yit a look upon me for having done it, she don't ; and I turns 

158 



JO, THE CROSSING SWEEPER 

agin the wall, I doos, Mr. Snagsby. And Mr. Woodcot, he 
come to give me somethink to ease me, wot he 's alius a-doing 
on day and night, and wen he come over me and a-speakin' up 
so bold, I see his tears a-fallin', Mr. Snagsby." 

After this, Jo lies in a stupor most of the time, and Allan 
Woodcourt, coming in a little later, stands looking down on 
the wasted form, thinking of the thousands of strong, merry 
boys to whom the story of Jo's life would sound incredible. 
As he stands there, Jo rouses with a start. 

"Well, Jo, what is the matter? Don't be frightened." 

" I thought," says Jo, who had stared and is looking 
around, " I thought I wos in Tom-all-Alone's again. Ain't 
there nobody here but you, Mr. Woodcot?" 

" Nobody." 

" And I ain't took back to Tom-all- Alone's. Am I, sir ? " 

" No." 

Jo closes his eyes, muttering, " I 'm wery thankful ! " 

After watching him closely for a little while, Allan puts his 
mouth very near his ear, and says to him in a low, distinct 
voice : 

" Jo, did you ever know a prayer ? " 

" Never knowed nothink, sir ! " 

<c Not so much as one short prayer ? " 

" No, sir. Nothink at all, sir. Mr. Chadbands he wos 
a-praying wunst at Mr. Snagsby's, and I heerd him,, but he 
sounded as if he wos a-speaking to hisself and not to me. He 
prayed a lot, but I could n't make out nothink on it. I never 
knowed wot it wos all about." 

It takes him a long time to say this, and few but an ex- 
perienced and attentive listener could hear, or hearing under- 
stand him. After a short relapse into sleep or a stupor he 
makes of a sudden a strong effort to get out of bed. 

" Stay, Jo, what now ? " 

i59 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

" It's time for me to go to that there berrying-ground, sir," 
he returned with a wild look. 

" Lie down and tell me what burying-ground, Jo." 
• " Where they laid him as wos wery good to me ; wery good 
to me indeed he wos! It's time for me to go down to that 
there berrying-ground and ask to be put along with him. I 
wants to go there and be berried. He used fur to say to me, 
* I am as poor as you to-day, Jo,' he says. I wants to tell him 
that I am as poor as him now, and have come there to be laid 
along with him." > 

" By-and-by, Jo, by-and-by." 

" Ah ! P 'raps they would n't do it if I wos to go myself. 
But will you promise to have me took there, sir, and laid along 
with him ? " 

" I will, indeed ! " 

" Thank 'ee, sir. Thank 'ee, sir. They '11 have to get the 
key of the gate afore they can take me in, for it 's always locked. 
And there 's a step there as I used fur to clean with my broom. 
It's turned very dark, sir. Is there any light a-coming? " 

" It is coming fast, Jo, my poor fellow." 

" I hear you, sir, in the dark, but I 'm a-gropin' — a-gropin' 
— - let me catch hold of your hand ! " 

" Jo, can you say what I say ? " 

" I '11 say anythink as you say, sir, fur I knows it 's good." 

cc Our Father," 

" Our Father — yes, that's wery good, sir." 

" Which Art in Heaven," 

"Art in Heaven — is the light a-coming, sir?" 

£f It is close at hand — Hallowed be Thy Name." 

"Hallowed be — thy— " 

The light is come upon the dark benighted way. The be- 
wildering path is cleared of shadows at last. Jo has moved on 
to a home prepared by Eternal Love for such as he. 

160 



PAUL DOMBEY 



161 




#~* 



Paul Dombey and his Sister. 



PAUL DOMBEY 



^A S Mrs. Dombey died when little Paul was born, 

/^L upon Mr. Dombey — the pompous head of the 

/ ^ great firm Dombey and Son — fell the entire 

responsibility of bringing up his two children, 

Florence, then eight years of age, and the tiny boy, Paul. 

Of Florence he took little notice ; girls never seemed to 
him to be of any special use in the world, but Paul was the 
light of his eyes, his pride and joy, and in the delicate child 
with his refined features and dreamy eyes, Mr. Dombey saw 
the future representative of the firm, and his heir as well ; and 
he could not do enough for the boy who was to perpetuate 
the name of Dombey after him. It seemed to Mr. Dombey 
that any one so fortunate as to be born his son could not but 
thrive in return for so great a favour. So it was a blow to him 
that Paul did not grow into a burly, hearty fellow. All their 
vigilance and care could not make him a sturdy boy. 

He was a pretty little fellow, though there was something 
wan and wistful in his small face. His temper gave abundant 
promise of being imperious in after life ; and he had as hopeful 
an apprehension of his own importance, and the rightful sub- 
servience of all other things and persons to it as heart could 
wish. 1 He was childish and sportive enough at times, and not 
of a sullen disposition ; but he had a strange, old-fashioned, 
thoughtful way, at other times of sitting brooding in his minia- 
ture arm-chair. At no time did he fall into it so surely as when 
after dinner he sat with his father by the fire. They were the 
strangest pair at such a time that ever fire-light shone upon. 
Mr. Dombey so erect and solemn, gazing at the blaze ; Paul 

163 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

with an old, old face peering into the red perspective with the 
fixed and rapt attention of a sage, the two so much alike and 
yet so monstrously contrasted. On one of these occasions, 
when they had both been perfectly quiet for a long time, little 
Paul broke the silence thus : 

" Papa, what's money ? " 

The abrupt question took Mr. Dombey by surprise. 

" What is money, Paul? " he answered, "Money ? " 

" Yes," said the child, laying his hands upon the elbows 
of his little chair, and turning his face up towards Mr. 
Dombey. " What is money? " 

Mr. Dombey was in a difficulty. He would have liked to 
give him some explanation, involving the terms, currency, bullion, 
rates of exchange, etc., but he feared he might not be under- 
stood, so he answered : 

" Gold and silver and copper. Guineas, shillings, half- 
pence. You know what they are?" 

" Oh yes, I know what they are," said Paul. " I don't 
mean that, papa. I mean what is money after all ? " 

" What is money after all ! " — said Mr. Dombey, backing 
his chair a little, that he might the better gaze at the presump- 
tuous atom who propounded such an inquiry. 

" I mean, papa, what can it do ? " returned Paul. 

Mr. Dombey patted him on the head. " You '11 know 
better by-and-by, my man," he said. " Money, Paul, can 
do anything." 

" Anything, papa ? " 

"Yes, anything — almost," said Mr. Dombey. 

" Why did n't money save me my mama ? " returned the 
child. " It is n't cruel, is it ? " 

" Cruel ?" said Mr. Dombey. " No. A good thing can't 
be cruel." 

" If it's a good thing and can do anything," said the little 

164 



PAUL DOMBEY 

fellow, thoughtfully, as he looked back at the fire, " I wonder 
why it did n't save me my mama." 

He didn't ask the question of his father this time. Per- 
haps he had seen, with a child's quickness, that it had already 
made his father uncomfortable. But he repeated the thought 
aloud, as if it was quite an old one to him, and had troubled 
him very much. 

" It can't make me strong and quite well, either, papa ; 
can it ? " asked Paul, after a short silence ; rubbing his tiny 
hands. 

"You are as strong and well as such little people usually 
are ? Eh ? " said Mr. Dombey. 

" Florence is older than I am, but I 'm not as strong and 
well as Florence, I know," returned the child; "I am so tired 
sometimes," said little Paul, " and my bones ache so that I 
don't know what to do." 

The unusual tone of that conversation so alarmed Mr. 
Dombey that the very next day he began to inquire into the 
real state of Paul's health ; and as the doctor suggested that sea- 
air might be of benefit to the child, to Brighton he was 
promptly sent, to remain until he should seem benefited. 
He refused to go without Florence to whom he clung with a 
passion of devotion which made Mr. Dombey both irritated 
and jealous to see, wishing himself to absorb the boy's entire 
affection. 

So to Brighton Paul and Florence went, in charge of 
Paul's nurse, Wickam. They found board in the house of an 
old lady, Mrs. Pipchin by name, whose temper was not of the 
best and whose methods of managing children were rather 
peculiar. 

At this exemplary old lady, Paul would sit staring in his 
little armchair for any length of time. He never seemed to 
know what weariness was when he was looking fixedly at 

l6 5 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

Mrs. Pipchin. He was not fond of her, he was not afraid 
of her, but she seemed to have a grotesque attraction for 
him. 

Once she asked him, when they were alone, what he was 
thinking about. 

"You," said Paul, without the least reserve. 

" And what are you thinking about me ? " asked Mrs. 
Pipchin. 

" I'm thinking how old you must be," said Paul. 

"You must n't say such things as that, young gentleman/' 
returned the dame. 

" Why not ? " asked Paul. 

" Because it 's not polite," said Mrs. Pipchin, snappishly. 

" Not polite ? " said Paul. 

"No." 

" It 's not polite," said Paul innocently, " to eat all the 
mutton-chops and toast, Wickam says." 

" Wickam," retorted Mrs. Pipchin colouring, " is a wicked, 
impudent, bold-faced hussy." 

" What 's that ? " inquired Paul. 

" Never you mind, sir," retorted Mrs. Pipchin. " Remem- 
ber the story of the little boy that was gored to death by a 
mad bull for asking questions." 

" If the bull was mad," said Paul, " how did he know that 
the boy had asked questions ? Nobody can go and whisper 
secrets to a mad bull. I don't believe that story." 

"You don't believe it, sir?" repeated Mrs. Pipchin, 
amazed. 

" No," said Paul. 

" Not if it should happen to have been a tame bull, you 
little infidel ? " said Mrs. Pipchin. 

As Paul had not considered the subject in that light, he 
allowed himself to be put down for the present. But he sat 

166 



PAUL DOMBEY 

turning it over in his mind with such an obvious intention of 
fixing Mrs. Pipchin presently, that even that hardy old lady 
deemed it prudent to retreat until he should have forgotten 
the subject. 

From that time Mrs. Pipchin appeared to have something 
of the same odd kind of an attraction towards Paul as Paul 
had towards her. She would make him move his chair to her 
side of the fire, instead of sitting opposite, and there he would 
remain studying every line of Mrs. Pipchin's face, while the 
old black cat lay coiled up on the fender purring and winking 
at the fire, and Paul went on studying Mrs. Pipchin and the 
cat and the fire, night after night, as if they were a history of 
necromancy in three volumes. 

At the end of a week, as Paul was no stronger, though he 
looked much healthier in the face, a little carriage was got for 
him, in which he could be wheeled down to the seaside. Con- 
sistent in his odd tastes, the child set aside a ruddy faced lad, 
who was proposed as the drawer of this carriage, and selected 
instead, his grandfather, Glubb by name, a weazen, old, crab- 
faced man, in a suit of battered oilskins, who smelt like a weedy 
sea-beach when the tide is out. With this notable attendant 
to pull him along and Florence always by his side, he went 
down to the margin of the ocean every day ; and there he 
would sit or lie in his carriage for hours together, never so dis- 
tressed as at the company of children. 

He had even a dislike at such times to the company of 
nurse Wickham, and was well pleased when she strolled away. 
His favourite spot was quite a lonely one, far away from most 
loungers, and with Florence sitting by his side at work, or 
reading to him, and the wind blowing on his face, and the water 
coming up among the wheels of his bed, he wanted nothing 
more. 

For a year the children stayed at Brighton, going home but 

167 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

twice during that time for a few days, but every Sunday Mr. 
Dombey spent with them at the Brighton Hotel. 

During the year Paul had grown strong enough to give up 
his carriage, though he still looked thin and delicate, and still 
remained the same dreamy, quiet child that he had been when 
consigned to Mrs. Pipchin's care. 

At length, on a Saturday afternoon, Mr. Dombey appeared 
with the news that he was thinking of removing Paul to the 
school of one Doctor Blimber, also at Brighton. 

" I have had some communication with the doctor, Mrs. 
Pipchin," said Mr. Dombey, " and he does not think Paul at 
all too young for his purposes. My son is getting on, Mrs. 
Pipchin, really he is getting on. 

" Six years old ! " said Mr. Dombey, settling his neck- 
cloth. "Dear me! six will be changed to sixteen before we 
have time to look about us ; and there is no doubt, I fear, that 
in his studies he is behind many children of his age — or his 
youth," said Mr. Dombey — " his youth is a more appropriate 
expression. 

" Now, Mrs. Pipchin, instead of being behind his peers, 
my son ought to be before them, far before them. There is 
an eminence ready for him to mount on. There is nothing of 
chance or doubt before my son. The education of such a 
young gentleman must not be delayed. It must not be left 
imperfect. It must be very steadily and seriously undertaken, 
Mrs. Pipchin." 

" Well, sir," said Mrs. Pipchin, " I can say nothing to the 
contrary." And so to Doctor Blimber's Paul was sent. 

The doctor's was a mighty fine house fronting the sea. 
Upon its doorstep one day Paul stood with a fluttering heart, 
and with his small right hand in his father's. His other 
hand was locked in that of Florence. The doctor was sitting 
in his portentous study, with a globe at each knee, books 

168 



PAUL DOMBEY 

all round him, Homer over the door and Minerva on the 
mantel-shelf. 

Paul being somewhat too small to be seen from where the 
doctor sat, over the books on his table, the doctor made 
several futile attempts to get a view of him round the legs ; 
which Mr. Dombey perceiving, relieved the doctor from his 
embarrassment by taking Paul up in his arms, and sitting him 
on another little table in the middle of the room. 

" Ha ! " said the doctor, leaning back in his chair. "Now 
I see my little friend. How do you do, my little friend ? " 

" V — ery well, I thank you, sir," returned Paul. 
" Ha ! " said Doctor Blimber. " Shall we make a man of 
him?" 

" Do you hear, Paul ? " added Mr. Dombey, Paul being 
silent. 

" I had rather be a child," replied Paul. 

" Indeed ! " said the doctor. " Why ? " 

The child made no audible answer, and Doctor Blimber 
continued, " You would wish my little friend to acquire — ? " 

"Everything, if you please, doctor," returned Mr.Dombey, 
firmly. 

" Yes," said the doctor. " Yes, exactly. Ha ! We shall 
impart a great variety of information to our. little friend, and 
bring him quickly forward." 

At this moment Mrs. Blimber entered, followed by her 
daughter, and they were duly presented to the Dombeys. 
There was no light nonsense about Miss Blimber. She kept 
her hair short and crisp and wore spectacles. 

Mrs. Blimber, her mama, was not learned herself, but she 
pretended to be, and that did quite as well. She said at even- 
ing parties, that if she could have known Cicero, she thought 
she could have died content. It was the steady joy of her life 
to see the doctor's young gentlemen go out walking, in the 

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TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

largest possible shirt-collars and the stiffest possible cravats. 
It was so classical, she said. 

After the introductions were accomplished Mrs. Blimber, 
took Mr. Dombey upstairs to inspect the dormitories. 
While they were gone Paul sat upon the table, holding 
Florence by the hand, and glancing timidly from the doctor 
round and round the room, while the doctor held a book from 
him at arm's length and read. 

Presently Mr. Dombey and Mrs. Blimber returned. 

" I hope, Mr. Dombey," said the doctor laying down his 
book, " that the arrangements meet with your approval ? " 

" They are excellent, sir," said Mr. Dombey, and added, 
" I think I have given all the trouble I need, and may now 
take my leave. Paul my child, good-bye." 

" Good-bye, papa." 

The limp and careless little hand, that Mr. Dombey took 
in his, was singularly out of keeping with the wistful little face. 
But he had no part in its sorrowful expression. It was not 
addressed to him. No, no ! To Florence, all to Florence. 

" I shall see you soon, Paul," said Mr. Dombey, bending 
over to kiss the child. " You are free on Saturdays and Sun- 
days, you know." 

" Yes, papa," returned Paul, looking at his sister. " On 
Saturdays and Sundays." 

cc And you '11 try and learn a great deal here and be a 
clever man," said Mr. Dombey ; " won't you ? " 

" I '11 try," said the boy, wearily, and then after his father 
had patted him on the head, and pressed his small hand again, 
and after he had one last long hug from Florence, he was left 
with the globes, the books, blind Homer and Minerva, while 
Doctor Blimber saw Mr. Dombey to the door. 

After the lapse of some minutes, Doctor Blimber came 
back, and the doctor lifting his new pupil off the table deliv- 

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PAUL DOMBEY 

ered him over to Miss Blimber's care. Miss Blimber received 
his young ward from the doctor's hands ; and Paul, feeling 
that the spectacles were surveying him, cast down his eyes. 

" How much of your Latin Grammar do you know, 
Dombey?" said Miss Blimber. 

" None of it," answered Paul. Feeling that the answer 
was a shock to Miss Blimber's sensibility he added : 

" I have n't been well. I have been a weak child. I 
could n't learn a Latin Grammar when I was out every day 
with old Glubb. I wish you would tell old Glubb to come 
and see me, if you please." 

" What a dreadful low name," said Mrs. Blimber. " Un- 
classical to a degree ! Who is the monster, child ? " 

" What monster! " inquired Paul. 

" Glubb," said Mrs. Blimber. 

" He 's no more a monster than you are," returned Paul. 

" What ! " cried the doctor, in a terrible voice. " Aye, 
aye, aye ? Aha ! What 's that ? " 

Paul was dreadfully frightened, but still he made a stand 
for the absent Glubb, though he did it trembling. 

" He's a very nice old man, ma'am," he said. cc He used 
to draw my couch ; he knows all about the deep sea and the 
fish that are in it, and though old Glubb don't know why the 
sea should make me think of my mama that 's dead, or what 
it is that it is always saying, — always saying, he knows a great 
deal about it." 

" Ha ! " said the doctor, shaking his head : " this is bad, 
but study will do much. Take him round the house, Cornelia, 
and familiarise him with his new sphere. Go with that young 
lady, Dombey." 

Dombey obeyed, giving his hand to Cornelia, who took 
him first to the school-room. Here were eight young gentle- 
men in various stages of mental prostration, all very hard at 

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TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

work and very grave indeed. Toots, the oldest boy in the 
school, to whom Paul had previously been introduced, had 
a desk to himself in one corner, and a magnificent man of im- 
mense age, he looked in Paul's eyes behind it. 

The appearance of a new boy did not create the sensation 
that might have been expected. Mr. Feeder, B. A., gave him 
a bony hand and told him he was glad to see him, and then 
Paul, instructed by Miss Blimber shook hands with all the 
eight young gentlemen, at work against time. Then Cornelia 
led Paul upstairs to the top of the house : and there, in a 
front room looking over the wild sea, Cornelia showed him a 
nice little white bed with white hangings, close to the window, 
on which there was already written on a card in round text 
Dombey ; while two other little bedsteads in the same room, 
were announced through the same means as belonging to 
Briggs and Tozer. 

Then Miss Blimber said to Dombey that dinner would be 
ready in a quarter of an hour, and perhaps he had better go 
into the school-room among his cc friends." So Dombey 
opened the school-room door a very little way and strayed in 
like a lost boy. 

His " friends/' were all dispersed about the room. All 
the boys (Toots excepted) were getting ready for dinner — 
some newly tying their neckcloths, and others washing their 
hands or brushing their hair in an adjoining room. Young 
Toots, who was ready beforehand, and had therefore leisure 
to bestow upon Dombey, said with heavy good-nature, — 

" Sit down, Dombey." 

" Thank you, sir," said Paul. 

His endeavouring to hoist himself on to a very high window- 
seat, and his slipping down again, prepared Toots' mind for the 
reception of a discovery. 

" You 're a very small chap," said Mr. Toots. 

1 72 



PAUL DOMBEY 

" Yes, sir, I 'm small," returned Paul. " Thank you, 
sir." For Toots had lifted him into the seat, and done it 
kindly too. 

" Who 's your tailor ? " inquired Toots, after looking at 
him for some moments. 

" It's a woman that has made my clothes as yet," said Paul. 
" My sister's dressmaker." 

" My tailor's Burgess and Co.," said Toots. " Fash'nable 
but very dear." 

Paul had wit enough to shake his head, as if he would have 
said it was easy to see that. 

" Your father 's regularly rich, ain't he ? " inquired Mr. 
Toots. 

" Yes, sir," said Paul. " He 's Dombey and Son." 

" And which ? " demanded Toots. f 

" And son, sir," replied Paul. 

By this time the other pupils had gathered round, and after 
a few minutes of general conversation the gong sounded, which 
caused a general move towards the dining-room. Paul's chair 
at the table was next to Miss Blimber, but it being found, when 
he sat in it, that his eyebrows were not much above the level 
of the table-cloth, some books were brought, on which he was 
elevated, and on which he always sat from that time, carrying 
them in and out himself on after occasions, like a little elephant 
and castle. 

Grace having been said by the doctor, dinner began. There 
was some nice soup, also roast meat, boiled meat, vegetables, 
pie, and cheese. Every young gentleman had a massive silver 
fork and a napkin, and all the arrangements were stately and 
handsome. There was a butler too, in a blue coat and brass 
buttons. 

Nobody spoke unless spoken to, except Doctor Blimber, 
Mrs. Blimber, and Miss Blimber. Only once during dinner 

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TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

was there any conversation that included the young gentlemen. 
It happened when the doctor, having hemmed twice or thrice, 
said : — 

" It is remarkable, Mr. Feeder, that the Romans — " 

At this mention of this terrible people, their implacable 
enemies, every young gentleman fastened his gaze upon the 
doctor, with an assumption of the deepest interest. One of 
the number happened to be drinking, and when he caught 
the doctors eye glaring at him through the side of his tumbler, 
he left off so hastily that he was convulsed for some moments, 
and in the sequel ruined Doctor Blimber's point, for at the 
critical part of the Roman tale, Johnson, unable to suppress it 
any longer, burst into such an overwhelming fit of coughing 
that, although both his immediate neighbours thumped him on 
the back, and Mr. Feeder himself held a glass of water to his 
lips, and the butler walked him up and down several times 
between his own chair and the sideboard, like a sentry, it was 
full Hve minutes before he was moderately composed, and then 
there was a profound silence. 

" Gentlemen," said Doctor Blimber, " rise for Grace ! 
Cornelia, lift Dombey down. Johnson will repeat to me 
to-morrow morning before breakfast, without book, and from 
the Greek Testament, the first chapter of Saint Paul to the 
Ephesians. We will resume our studies, Mr. Feeder, in half- 
an-hour." 

The young gentlemen bowed and withdrew. Through the 
rest of the day's routine of work Paul sat in a corner wonder- 
ing whether Florence was thinking of him and what they were 
about at Mrs. Pipchin's. 

In the confidence of their own room that night Briggs said 
his head ached ready to split. Tozer did n't say much, but he 
sighed a good deal, and told Paul to look out for his turn 
would come to-morrow. And Tozer was right. The next 

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PAUL DOMBEY 

morning Miss Blimber called Dombey to her and gave him a 
great pile of books. 

" These are yours, Dombey/' said Miss Blimber. 

" All of 'em, ma'am ? " said Paul. 

"Yes," returned Miss Blimber; "and Mr. Feeder will 
look you out some more very soon if you are as studious 
as I expect you will be, Dombey." 

" Thank you, ma'am," said Paul. 

" Now, don't lose time, Dombey," continued Miss Blim- 
ber, "for you have none to spare, but take them downstairs 
and begin directly." 

" Yes, ma'am," answered Paul. 

There were so many of them that, although Paul put one 
hand under the bottom book and his other hand and his chin 
on the top book and hugged them all closely, the middle book 
slipped out before he reached the door, and then they all 
tumbled down oh the floor. Miss Blimber said, " Oh, Dom- 
bey, Dombey, this is really very careless," and piled them up 
afresh for him ; and this time by dint of balancing them with 
great nicety, Paul got out of the room and down a few stairs 
before two of them escaped again. But he held the rest so 
tight that he only left one more on the first floor and one in 
the passage ; and when he had got the main body down into 
the school-room, he set off upstairs again to collect the strag- 
glers. Having at last amassed the whole library and climbed 
into his place he fell to work, encouraged by a remark from 
Tozer to the effect that he was in for it now ; which was the 
only interruption he received until breakfast time, for which 
meal he had no appetite, and when it was finished, he followed 
Miss Blimber upstairs. 

" NoWj Dombey, how have you got on with those books ? " 
asked Miss Blimber. 

They comprised a little English, and a deal of Latin, 

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TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

names of things, declensions of articles and nouns, exercises 
thereon, and preliminary rules ; a trifle of orthography, a glance 
at ancient history, a wink or two at modern ditto, a few tables, 
two or three weights and measures, and a little general informa- 
tion. When poor Paul had spelt out number two, he found 
he had no idea of number one, fragments whereof obtruded 
themselves into number three, which slided into number four, 
which grafted itself on to number two. So that whether twenty 
Romuluses made a Remus, or hie, haec, hoc, was troy weight, 
or a verb always agreed with an ancient Briton, or three times 
four was Taurus, a bull, were open questions with him. 

"Oh, Dombey, Dombey!" said Miss Blimber, "this is 
very shocking ! " 

" If you please," said Paul, " I think if I might sometimes 
talk a little with old Glubb, I should be able to do better." 

" Nonsense, Dombey," said Miss Blimber, " I could n't 
hear of it ; and now take away the top book, if you please, 
Dombey, and return when you are master of the theme." 

From that time Paul gave his whole mind to the pursuit of 
knowledge and acquitted himself very well, but it was hard 
work, and only on Saturdays did he have time to draw a free 
breath. 

Oh Saturdays, happy Saturdays, when Florence, still at 
Mrs. Pipchin's, came at noon ; they made up for all the other 
days ! 

It did not take long for the loving sister to discover that 
Paul needed help with the lessons over which he plodded so 
patiently, and so, procuring the books which he used, she kept 
pace with him in his studies, and every Saturday was able to 
assist him with his next week's work, and thus he was kept 
from sinking underneath the burden which Cornelia Blimber 
piled upon his back. 

It was not that Miss Blimber meant to be too hard upon 

176 



PAUL DOMBEY 

him, or that Doctor Blimber meant to bear too heavily upon the 
young gentlemen in general, but comforted by the applause of 
the young gentlemen's nearest relatives, and urged on by their 
blind vanity and ill-considered haste, it would have been strange 
if Doctor Blimber had discovered his mistake. Thus in the case 
of Paul. When Doctor Blimber said he made great progress 
and was naturally clever, Mr. Dombey was more bent than ever 
on his being forced and crammed. 

Such spirits as he had in the outset Paul soon lost. But 
he retained all that was strange and old and thoughtful in his 
character. The only difference was that he kept his character 
to himself. He grew more thoughtful and reserved every day. 
He loved to be alone ; and in those short intervals when he 
was not occupied with his books, he liked nothing so well as 
wandering about the house by himself, or sitting on the stairs 
listening to the great clock in the hall. 

They were within some two or three weeks of the holidays 
when one day Cornelia called Dombey to her to hear the 
analysis of his character that she was about to send to his 
father. 

" Analysis" said Miss Blimber, " of the character of P. 
Dombey. It may be generally observed of Dombey ," said 
Miss Blimber, reading in a loud voice, and at every second 
word directing her spectacles towards the little figure before 
her, " that his abilities and inclinations are good, and that he 
has made as much progress as under the circumstances could 
have been expected. But it is to be lamented of this young 
gentleman that he is singular (what is usually termed old- 
fashioned) in his character and conduct, and that he is often 
very unlike other young gentlemen of his age and social posi- 
tion. Now, Dombey," said Miss Blimber, laying down the 
paper, " do you understand ? This analysis, you see, Dombey," 

Miss Blimber continued, " is going to be sent home to your 
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TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

respected parent. It will naturally be very painful to him to 
find that you are singular in your character and conduct. It is 
naturally very painful to us, for we can't like you, you know, 
Dombey, as well as we could wish." 

She touched the child upon a tender point. He had 
secretly become more solicitous from day to day that all the 
house should like him. He could not bear to think that they 
would be quite indifferent to him when he was gone, and he 
had even made it his business to conciliate a great, hoarse, 
shaggy dog, who had previously been the terror of his life, that 
even he might miss him. 

This poor tiny Paul set forth to Miss Blimber as well as 
he could and begged her, in spite of the official analysis, to 
have the goodness to try to like him. To Mrs. Blimber, 
who had joined them, he preferred the same petition ; and 
when she gave her oft-repeated opinion that he was an odd 
child, Paul told her that he was sure that she was quite 
right; that he thought it must be his bones, but he didn't 
know, and he hoped she would overlook it, for he was fond 
of them all. 

" Not so fond," said Paul, with a mixture of frankness and 
timidity which was one of the most peculiar and engaging 
qualities of his, " not so fond as I am of Florence, of course ; 
that could never be. You could n't expect that, could you, 
ma am r 

" Oh, the old-fashioned little soul ! " cried Mrs. Blimber, 
in a whisper. 

" But I like everybody here very much," pursued Paul, 
" and I should grieve to go away and think that any one was 
glad I had gone, or did n't care." 

Mrs. Blimber was now sure that Paul was the oddest child 
in the world, and when she told the doctor what had passed, 
he did not controvert his wife's opinion. 

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PAUL DOMBEY 

And Paul's wish was gratified. His purpose was to be 
a gentle, helpful, quiet little fellow, and though he was often 
to be seen at his old post on the stairs, or watching the waves 
or the clouds from his solitary window, he was oftener found 
too, among the other boys, modestly rendering them some 
little voluntary service. Thus it came to pass that Paul was 
an object of general interest: a fragile little plaything that they 
all liked, and that no one would have thought of treating 
roughly. But he could not change his nature, and so they 
all agreed that Dombey was old-fashioned. 

There were some immunities, however, attaching to the 
character enjoyed by no one else. They could have better 
spared a newer-fashioned child, and that alone was much. 
When the others only bowed to Doctor Blimber and family 
when retiring, Paul would stretch his morsel of a hand, and 
boldly shake the doctor's, also Mrs. Blimber's, also Cornelia's; 
and if any one was to be begged off from impending punish- 
ment, Paul was always the delegate. 

One evening, when the holidays were very near, Paul was 
in Toots' room watching Mr. Feeder and Toots fold, seal, 
and direct, the invitations for the evening party with which 
the term was to close. Paul's head, which had long been 
ailing more or less, and was sometimes very heavy and painful, 
felt so uneasy that night that he was obliged to support it on 
his hand. And it dropped so that by little and little it sunk 
on Mr. Toots' knee, and rested there. 

That was no reason why he should be deaf; but he must 
have been, he thought, for by and by he heard Mr. Feeder 
calling in his ear, and gently shaking him to rouse his atten- 
tion. And when he raised his head, quite scared, he found 
that Doctor Blimber had come into the room, and that the 
window was open, and that his forehead was wet with sprinkled 
water. 

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TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

" Ah ! Come, come, that 's well. How is my little friend 
now ? " said Doctor Blimber. 

" Oh, quite well, thank you, sir," said Paul. 

But there seemed to be something the matter with the 
floor, for he could n't stand upon it steadily ; and with the 
walls too, for they were inclined to turn round and round. 

It was very kind of Mr. Toots to carry him to the top 
of the house so tenderly, and Paul told him that it was. But 
Mr. Toots said he would do a great deal more than that if 
he could ; and, indeed, he did more as it was, for he helped 
Paul to undress and helped him to bed in the kindest manner 
possible, and then sat down by the bedside and chuckled very 
much, while Mr. Feeder leaning over the bottom of the bed- 
stead set all the little bristles on his head, bolt upright with 
his bony hands, and then made believe to spar at Paul, with 
great science, on account of his being all right again, which 
was so funny and kind, too, in Mr. Feeder, that Paul, not 
being able to make up his mind whether to laugh or cry, did 
both at once. 

Everything that could minister to Paul's comfort was done 
for him, and in those days just before the holidays when the 
other young gentlemen were labouring for dear life, Paul was 
such a privileged pupil as had never been seen in that house 
before. He could hardly believe it himself, but his liberty 
lasted from hour to hour, from day to day ; and little Dombey 
was caressed by every one. 

At last, the great night of the reception arrived. 

When Paul was dressed, which was very soon done, for 
he felt unwell and drowsy and not able to stand about it 
very long, he went down into the drawing-room. Shortly 
afterwards Mrs. Blimber appeared, looking lovely, Paul 
thought, and Miss Blimber came down soon after her mama. 
Mr. Toots and Mr. Feeder were the next arrivals. Each of 

1 80 



PAUL DOMBEY 

these gentlemen brought his hat in his hand as if he lived 
somewhere else ; and when they were announced by the butler, 
Doctor Blimber said, " Aye, aye, aye ! God bless my soul ! " 
and seemed extremely glad to see them. Mr. Toots was one 
blaze of jewellery and buttons, and all the other young gentle- 
men were tightly cravatted, curled, and pumped, and all came 
in with their hats in their hands at separate times and were 
announced and introduced. Soon Paul slipped down from the 
cushioned corner of a sofa, and went downstairs into the tea- 
room to be ready for Florence. Presently she came ; looking 
so beautiful in her simple ball-dress, with her fresh flowers in her 
hand, that when she knelt down, to take Paul round the neck 
and kiss him, he could hardly make up his mind to let her go 
again, or to take away her bright and loving eyes from his face. 

" But what is the matter, Floy ? " asked Paul, almost sure 
that he saw a tear there. 

"Nothing, darling, nothing," returned Florence. 

Paul touched her cheek gently with his finger, and it was 
a tear. 

" We '11 go home together, and I '11 nurse you, love," said 
Florence. 

" Nurse me ? " echoed Paul. 

" Floy," said Paul, holding a ringlet of her dark hair in 
his hand. " Tell me, dear. Do you think I have grown 
old-fashioned ? " 

His sister laughed, and fondled him and told him, Cf No." 

Through the evening Paul sat in his corner watching the 
dancing and beaming with pride as he heard praise showered 
on Dombey's sister. They all loved her — how could they 
help it, Paul had known beforehand that they must and would, 
and few would have thought with what triumph and delight 
he watched her. Thus little Paul sat musing, listening, look- 
ing on and dreaming ; and was very happy. Until the time 

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TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

came for taking leave, and then indeed there was a sensation 
in the party. Every one took the heartiest sort of leave of 
him. 

" Good-bye, Doctor Blimber," said Paul, stretching out 
his hand. 

" Good-bye, my little friend," returned the doctor. 

"I'm very much obliged to you, sir," said Paul, looking 
innocently up into his awful face. " Ask them to take care of 
Diogenes, if you please." 

Diogenes was the dog who had never received a friend into 
his confidence, before Paul. The doctor promised that every 
attention should be paid to Diogenes in Paul's absence, and 
Paul having again thanked him, and shaken hands with 
him, bade adieu to Mrs. Blimber and Cornelia. Cornelia, 
taking both Paul's hands in hers said, — " Dombey, Dombey, 
you have always been my favourite pupil. God bless you ! " 
And it showed, Paul * thought, how easily one might do in- 
justice to a person ; for Miss Blimber meant it — although she 
was a Forcer. 

A buzz then went round among the young gentlemen, of 
" Dombey 's going ! little Dombey 's going ! " and there was a 
general move after Paul and Florence down the staircase and 
into the hall, in which the whole Blimber family were included. 
The servants with the butler at their head had all an interest 
in seeing Little Dombey go, and even the young man taking 
out his books and trunks to the coach melted visibly. Nothing 
could restrain them from taking quite a noisy leave of Paul ; 
waving hats after him, pressing downstairs to shake hands 
with him, crying individually " Dombey ! don't forget me ! " 
Paul whispered to Florence, as she wrapped him up before the 
door was opened. Did she hear them ? Would she ever forget 
it? Was she glad to know it? And a lively delight was in 
his eyes as he spoke to her. 

182 



PAUL DOMBEY 

Once for a last look he turned and gazed upon the faces 
thus addressed to him, surprised to see how shining and how 
bright and how numerous they were. They swam before him, 
as he looked, and next moment he was in the dark coach 
outside holding close to Florence. From that time, when- 
ever he thought of Doctor Blimber's it came back as he had seen 
it in this last view ; and it never seemed a real place again, but 
always a dream, full of eyes. 

And so ended little Paul's school days at Doctor Blimber's, 
for once at home again he never rose from his little bed. He 
lay there (listening to the noises in the street), quite tranquilly, 
not caring much how the time went, but watching it and 
everything about him with observing eyes. When the sun- 
beams struck into his room through the rustling blinds, and 
quivered on the opposite wall like golden water, he knew that 
evening was coming on, and that the sky was red and beauti- 
ful. As the reflection died away, and a gloom went creeping 
up the wall, he watched it deepen — deepen, into night. 
Then he thought how the long streets were dotted with lamps, 
and how the peaceful stars were shining overhead. His fancy 
had a strange tendency to wander to the river, which he knew 
was flowing through the great city ; and now he thought how 
black it was and how deep it would look reflecting the hosts 
of stars — and more than all, how steadily it rolled away to 
meet the sea. 

As it grew later in the night, and footsteps in the street 
became so rare that he could hear their coming, count them as 
they passed, and lose them in the hollow distance, he would lie 
and watch the many-coloured ring about the candle, and 
wait patiently for day. When day began to dawn again, he 
watched for the sun and when its cheerful light began to sparkle 
in the room, he pictured to himself — pictured! he saw — the 
high church towers rising up into the morning sky, the town 

183 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

reviving, waking, starting into life once more, the river 
glistening as it rolled (but rolling fast as ever), and the country 
bright with dew. Familiar sounds came by degrees into the 
street below ; the servants in the house were roused and busy ; 
faces looked in at the door, and voices asked his attendants 
softly how he was. Paul always answered for himself, " I am 
better. I am a great deal better, thank you. Tell papa so.'* 

By little and little he got tired of the bustle of the day, the 
noise of carriages and carts, and people passing and re-passing; 
and would fall asleep, or be troubled with a restless, and uneasy 
sense again — the child could hardly tell whether this were in 
his sleeping or his waking moments — of that rushing river. 

" Why will it never stop, Floy ? " he would sometimes ask 
her. " It is bearing me away I think." 

But Floy could always soothe and reassure him : and it 
was his daily delight to make her lay her head down on his 
pillow, and take some rest. 

"You are always watching me, Floy, let me watch you now." 
They would prop him up with cushions in a corner of his bed, 
and there he would recline the while. she lay beside him, bend- 
ing forwards oftentimes to kiss her. 

Thus the flush of the day in its heat and light, would gra- 
dually decline ; and again the golden water would be dancing on 
the wall. 

He was visited by as many as three grave doctors — 
they used to assemble downstairs and come up together — 
and the room was so quiet and Paul was so observant of them 
(though he never asked of anybody what they said) that he 
even knew the difference in the sound of their watches. 

The people round him changed as unaccountably as on 
that first night at Doctor Blimber's — except Florence ; Florence 
never changed. Old Mrs. Pipchin dozing in an easy chair, 
often changed to someone else and Paul was quite content to 

184 



PAUL DOMBEY 

shut his eyes again and see what happened next, without 
emotion. But one figure with its head upon its hand returned 
so often and remained so long, and sat so still and solemn, 
never speaking, never being spoken to, and rarely lifting up its 
face, that Paul began to wonder languidly if it were real. 

" Floy," he said, " what is that ? " 

" Where, dearest ? " 

"There, at the bottom of the bed." 

"There's nothing there except papa." 

The figure lifted up its head, and rose, and coming to the 
bedside said : cc My own boy ! Don't you know me ? " 

Paul looked it in the face and thought, was this his father ? 
But the face so altered to his thinking, thrilled while he gazed, 
as if it were in pain ; and before he could reach out both his 
hands to take it between them and draw it towards him, the 
figure turned away quickly from the little bed, and went out at 
the door. The next time he observed the figure sitting at the 
bottom of the bed, he called to it : 

" Don't be so sorry for me, dear papa. Indeed, I am 
quite happy." 

His father coming and bending down to him, which he did 
quickly, Paul held him round the neck and repeated those 
words to him several times and very earnestly. This was the 
beginning of his always saying in the morning that he was a 
great deal better, and that they were to tell his father so. 

How many times the golden water danced on the wall ; how 
many nights the dark, dark river rolled away towards the sea in 
spite of him, Paul never counted, never sought to know. If 
their kindness could have increased, or his sense of it, they 
were more kind, and he more grateful every day ; but whether 
they were many days or few appeared of little moment now to 
the gentle boy. 

One night he had been thinking of his mother and her pic- 

185 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

ture in the drawing-room downstairs. The train of thought 
suggested to him to inquire if he had ever seen his mother ; 
for he could not remember whether they had told him yes or 
no, the river running very fast and confusing his mind. 

" Floy, did I ever see mama ? " 

' c No, darling ; why ? " 

" Did I ever see any kind face like mama's looking at me 
when I was a baby, Floy ? " 
" Oh yes, dear." 

" Whose, Floy ? " 

" Your old nurse's, often." 

"And where is my old nurse? " said Paul. "Is she dead, 
too ? Floy are we all dead except you ? " 

There was a hurry in the room for an instant — longer 
perhaps — then all was still again, and Florence, with her face 
quite colourless but smiling, held his head upon her arm.' Her 
arm trembled very much. 

" Show me that old nurse, Floy, if you please." 

" She is not here, darling ; she shall come to-morrow." 

" Thank you, Floy." 

Paul closed his eyes with these words and fell asleep. 
When he awoke the sun was high and the broad day was clear 
and warm. He lay a little, looking at the windows, which 
were open, and the curtains rustling in the air, and waving to 
and fro, then he said, " Floy, is it to-morrow ? Is she come ? " 
The next thing that happened was a noise of footsteps on the 
stairs, and then Paul woke — woke mind and body — and sat 
upright in his bed. He saw them now about him. There 
was no gray mist before them as there had been some time in 
the night. He knew them every one and called them by their 
names. 

"And who is this? Is this my old nurse?" said the 
child, regarding with a radiant smile a figure coming in. 

186 



PAUL DOMBEY 

Yes, yes. No other stranger would have shed those tears 
at sight of him, and called him her dear boy, her pretty boy, 
her own poor blighted child. No other woman would have 
stooped down by his bed, and taken up his wasted hand, and 
put it to her lips and breast, as one who had some right to 
fondle it. 

" Floy, this is a kind, good face," said Paul. " I am glad 
to see it again. Don't go away, old nurse. Stay here." 

" Good-bye, my child," cried Mrs. Pipchin, hurrying to 
his bed's head. " Not good-bye ? " 

For an instant Paul looked at her with the wistful face with 
which he had so often gazed upon her in his corner by the fire. 

" Ah, yes," he said, placidly, " good-bye. Where is papa ? " 

He felt his father's breath upon his cheek before the words 
had parted from his lips. 

" Now lay me down," he said, " and, Floy, come close to 
me, and let me see you." 

Sister and brother wound their arms around each other, and 
the golden light came streaming in, and fell upon them, locked 
together. 

" How fast the river runs, between its green banks and 
the rushes, Floy. But it's very near the sea. I hear the 
waves." 

Presently he told her that the motion of the boat upon the 
stream was lulling him to rest. How near the banks were 
now. How bright the flowers growing on them, and how tall 
the rushes. Now the boat was out at sea but gliding smoothly 
on. And now there was a shore before him. Who stood on 
the bank ? 

He put his hands together as he had been used to do at his 
prayers. He did not remove his arms to do it, but they saw 
him fold them so, behind her neck. 

" Mama is like you, Floy. I know her by the face. But 

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TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

tell them that the print upon the stairs at school is not divine 
enough. The light about the head is shining on me as I go." 
The golden ripple on the wall came back again, and nothing 
else stirred in the room. The old, old fashion. The fashion 
that came in with our first garments, and will last unchanged 
until our race has run its course, and the wide firmament is 
rolled up like a scroll. The old, old fashion — Death. 

Oh, thank God for that older fashion yet, — of Immor- 
tality ! 



p I p 



189 




Pip and Miss Havishai 



PIP 



MY father's family name being Idrrip, and my 
Christian name Philip, my infant tongue could 
make of both names nothing more explicit 
than Pip. So I called myself Pip, and came 
to be called Pip. 

My mother and father both being dead, I was brought up 
by my sister, Mrs. Joe Gargery, who was more than twenty 
years older than I, and a veritable shrew by nature. She had 
acquired a great reputation among the neighbours because she 
had brought me up by hand. Not understanding this expres- 
sion, and knowing her to have a hard and heavy hand, and to 
be much in the habit of laying it upon her husband as well 
as upon me, I supposed that Joe Gargery and I were both 
brought up by hand. 

Joe, her husband, was a mild, good-natured, sweet-tempered, 
easy-going, foolish, dear fellow, with light curly hair and blue 
eyes, and he and I were great chums, as well as fellow-sufferers 
under the rule of my sharp-tongued sister. 

One afternoon I was wandering in the church-yard where 
my mother and father were buried, when I was accosted by 
a fearful man all in coarse grey, with a great iron on his 
leg. He wore no hat and had broken shoes, and an old 
rag tied round his head. He limped and shivered, and 
glared and growled, his teeth chattering, as he seized me 
by the chin. 

" O don't cut my throat, sir ! " I pleaded in terror. " Pray 
don't do it, sir ! " 

" Tell us your name," said the man, " quick ! " 

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TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

" Pip, sir." 

" Show us where you live," he said. " Point out the 

place ! " 

I pointed to where our village lay, and then the man, 
after looking at me for a moment, turned me upside down 
and emptied my pockets, but there was nothing in them 
except a piece of bread. When the church came to itself, 
for he was so sudden and strong that he made it go head 
over heels before me, — I was seated on a high tombstone 
trembling, while he ate the bread ravenously. Then he 
came nearer to my tombstone, took me by both arms, and 
tilted me back as far as he could hold me, looking into my 
eyes. 

" Now lookee here," he said, " you get me a file and you 
get me wittles ; you bring both to me to-morrow morning 
early, that file and them wittles. You bring the lot to me at 
that old Battery yonder. You do it, and you never dare to 
say a word concerning your having seen such a person as me, 
and you shall be let live. You fail in any partickler and your 
heart and your liver shall be tore out, roasted and ate ! Now 
I ain't alone, as you may think. There is a young man hid 
with me who hears the words I speak. It is in wain for a boy 
to attempt to hide himself from that young man. A boy may 
lock his door, may be warm in bed, may draw the clothes over 
his head, may think himself comfortable and safe, but that 
young man will soon creep and creep his way to him and tear 
him open. I am a-keeping the young man from harming of 
you at the present moment with great difficulty. Now what 
do you say ? " 

I said I would get him the file and what food I could, and 
would come to him early in the morning. 

" Say, Lord strike me dead, if you don't ! " 

I said so and he took me down. I faltered a good night, 

192 



p I p 

and he turned to go, walking as if he were numb and stiff. 
When I saw him turn to look once more at me, I made the 
best use of my legs, having a terrible fear of him, and of the 
young man, and I ran home without once stopping. 

I found the forge shut up and Joe alone in the kitchen. 
The minute I raised the latch, he said : 

" Mrs. Joe has been out a dozen times looking for you, Pip, 
and she 's out now, and what 's more, she 's got Tickler with 
her." 

At this dismal intelligence I looked with great depression 
at the fire. Tickler was a wax-ended piece of cane, worn 
smooth by contact with my tickled frame. 

" She sot down," said Joe, " and she got up, and she made 
a grab at Tickler, and she rampaged out. Now she 's a-coming ! 
Go behind the door, old chap ! " 

I took the advice, but my sister, throwing the door wide 
open, and finding an obstruction behind it, guessed the cause, 
and applied Tickler to its further investigation. 

" Where have you been, you young monkey ? " she asked, 
stamping her foot ; " Tell me directly what you Ve been doing 
to wear me away with fret and fright and worrit? " 

" I have only been in the church-yard," said I, crying and 
rubbing myself, but my answer did not satisfy my sister, who 
kept on scolding and applying Tickler to my person until she 
was obliged to see to the tea things. Though I was very 
hungry, I dared not eat my bread and butter, for I felt that I 
must have something in reserve to take my dreadful acquaint- 
ance in case I could find nothing else. Therefore, at a moment 
when no one was looking, I put a hunk of bread and butter 
down the leg of my trousers. Joe thought I had eaten it in 
one gulp, which greatly distressed him, and I was borne off and 
dosed with tar water. 

Conscience is a dreadful thing when it accuses man or boy. 
13 193 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

The guilty knowledge that I was going to rob Mrs. Joe, united 
to. the necessity of keeping one hand on my bread and butter 
as I sat or moved about, almost drove me out of my mind, but 
as it was Christmas Eve, I was obliged to stir the pudding for 
next day for one whole hour. I tried to do it with the load on 
my leg, and found the tendency of exercise was to bring the 
bread out at my ankle, so I managed to slip away and deposit 
it in my garret room. Later there was a sound of firing in the 
distance. " Ah," said Joe, " there 's another convict off! " 

" What does that mean, Joe," said I. 

Mrs. Joe answered, cc Escaped, escaped," and Joe added, 
— " There was one off last night, and they fired warning of 
him. And now it appears they're firing warning of another." 

" Who 's firing ? " said I. 

" Drat that boy," said my sister, frowning. " What a 
questioner he is ! Ask no questions and you '11 be told no 
lies ! " 

I waited a while, and then as a last resort, I said, — " Mrs. 
Joe, I should like to know — if you would n't much mind — 
where the firing comes from ? " 

"Lord bless the boy!" she exclaimed, "from the 
Hulks!" 

"Oh — h," said I, looking at Joe, " Hulks ! And please 
what 's Hulks ? " 

" That 's the way with this boy," exclaimed my sister, 
" answer him one question, and he '11 ask you a dozen directly. 
Hulks are prison ships right 'cross the meshes." (We always 
used that name for marshes in our country.) 

" I wonder who 's put in prison ships, and why they 're 
put there," said I. 

This was too much for Mrs. Joe, who immediately rose. 
" I tell ye what, young fellow," said she, " I did n't bring you 
up by hand to badger people's lives out. People are put in 

194 



p I p 

the Hulks because they murder and rob and forge and do all 
sorts of bad ; and they always begin by asking questions. Now 
you get along to bed ! " 

I was never allowed a candle and as I crept up in the dark 
I felt fearfully sensible that the Hulks were handy for me. 
I was clearly on the way there. I had begun by asking 
questions and I was going to rob Mrs. Joe. I was also in 
mortal terror of the young man who wanted my heart and 
liver, and of my acquaintance with the iron on his leg, and if I 
slept at all that night it was only to imagine myself drifting 
down the river on a strong spring tide to the Hulks, a ghostly 
pirate calling out to me through a speaking trumpet that I had 
better come ashore and be hanged there at once. I was afraid 
to sleep even if I could have, for I knew that at the first dawn 
of morning I must rob the pantry and be off. 

So as early as possible I crept downstairs to the pantry and 
secured some bread, some rind of cheese, half a jar of mince- 
meat, some brandy from a stone bottle which I poured into 
a bottle of my own and then filled the stone one up with 
water. I also took a meat bone and a beautiful pork pie. 
Then I got a file from among Joe's tools, and with this 
and my other plunder made my way with all dispatch along 
the river-side. Presently I came upon what I supposed was 
the man I was searching for, for he too was dressed in coarse 
gray and had a great iron on his leg, but his face was 
different. 

" It's the young man," I thought, feeling my heart beat 
fast at the idea. He swore at me as I passed, and tried in a 
weak way to hit me, but then he ran away and I continued 
my trip to the Battery, and there was the right man in a 
ravenous condition. He was gobbling mincemeat, meat-bone, 
bread, cheese, and pork pie all at once, when he turned sud- 
denly and said : 

i95 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

' c You 're not a deceiving imp ? You brought no one with 
you ? " I answered no, and he resumed his meal, snapping 
at the food as a dog would do. While he was eating, I 
ventured to remark that I had met the young man he spoke 
of, at which the man showed the greatest surprise, and became 
so " violently excited that I was very much afraid of him. I 
was also afraid of remaining away from home any longer. I 
told him I must go, but he took no notice, so I thought the 
best thing I could do was to slip off, which I did. 

" And where the deuce ha' you been ? " was Mrs. Joe's 
Christmas salutation. 

I said I had been down to hear the carols. " Ah well," 
observed Mrs. Joe, " you might ha' done worse," and then 
went on with her work as we were to have company for 
dinner, and the feast was to be one that occasioned extensive 
arrangements. My sister had too much to do to go to church, 
but Joe and I went, arrayed in our Sunday best. When we 
reached home we found the table laid, Mrs. Joe dressed and 
the front door unlocked — (it never was at any other time) 
and everything most splendid. And still not a word about 
the robbery. The company arrived; Mr. Wopsle, Mr. and 
Mrs. Hubble, and Uncle Pumblechook, Joe's uncle, who lived 
in the nearest town and drove his own chaise cart. 

Dinner was a brilliant success, but so rich that Uncle 
Pumblechook was entirely overcome, and was obliged to call 
for brandy. Oh heavens ! he would say it was weak, and I 
should be lost ! I held tight to the leg of the table and 
awaited my fate. The brandy was poured out and Uncle 
Pumblechook drank it off. Instantly he sprang to his feet, 
turned round several times in an appalling, spasmodic whoop- 
ing-cough dance, and rushed out at the door to the great 
consternation of the company. Mrs. Joe and Joe ran out and 
brought him back, and as he sank into his chair he gasped the 

196 



p I p 

one word, " Tar ! " I had filled up the bottle from the tar- 
water jug! Oh misery ! I knew he would be worse by and 
by! 

" Tar ? " cried my sister. " Why how ever could tar 
come there?" Fortunately at that moment, Uncle Pumble- 
chook called for hot gin and water, and my sister had to 
employ herself actively in getting it. For the time at least, I 
was saved. By degrees I became calmer and able to partake 
of pudding, and was beginning to think I should get over the 
day, when my sister said, " You must finish with such a deli- 
cious present of Uncle Pumblechook's, a savoury pork pie ! " 
She went out to the pantry to get it. I am not certain 
whether I uttered a shrill yell of terror merely in spirit or in the 
hearing of the company. I felt that I must run away, so I 
released the leg of the table and ran for my life. But at the 
door, I ran head foremost into a party of soldiers ringing 
down the butt-ends of their muskets on our doorstep. This 
apparition caused the dinner party to rise hastily, while Mrs. 
Joe who was re-entering the kitchen, empty-handed, stopped 
short in her lament of " Gracious goodness, gracious me, 
what 's gone — with the — pie ! " and stared at the visitors. 

Further acquaintance with the military gentlemen proved 
that they had not come for me, as I fully expected, but merely 
to have a pair of hand-cuffs mended, which Joe at once pro- 
ceeded to do, and while the soldiers waited they stood about 
the kitchen, and piled their arms in the corner, telling us that 
they were on the search for the two convicts who had escaped 
from the prison ships. When Joe's job was done, he proposed 
that some of us go with them to see the hunt. Only Mr. 
Wopsle cared to go, and then Joe said he would take me. 
To this Mrs. Joe merely remarked : " If you bring the boy 
back, with his head blown to bits with a musket, don't look 
to me to put it together again ! " 

i97 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

The soldiers took a polite leave of the ladies and then we 
started off, Joe whispering to me, " I 'd give a shilling if 
they 'd cut and run, Pip ! " 

There was no doubt in my mind that the man I had suc- 
coured and the other one I had seen, were the convicts in 
question, and as we went on and on, my heart thumped vio- 
lently. The man had asked me if I was a deceiving imp. 
Would he believe now that I had betrayed him ? 

On we went, and on and on, down banks and up banks, 
and over gates, hearing the sound of shouting in the distance. 
As we came nearer to the sound, the soldiers ran like deer. 
Water was splashing, mud was flying, and oaths were being 
sworn, and then, " Here are both men ! " panted the sergeant, 
struggling in a ditch. " Surrender, you two ! Come asun- 
der ! " Other soldiers ran to help, and dragged up from the 
ditch my convict and the other one. Both were bleeding and 
panting and struggling, but of course I knew them both 
directly. While the manacles were being put on their hands, 
my convict saw me for the first time. I looked at him eagerly, 
and slightly moved my hands and shook my head, trying to 
assure him of my innocence, but he did not in any way show 
me that he understood my gestures. We soon set off, the 
convicts kept apart, and each surrounded by a separate guard. 
Mr. Wopsle would have liked to turn back, but Joe was re- 
solved to see it out, so we went on with the party, carrying 
torches which flared up and lighted our way. We could not 
go fast because of the lameness of the prisoners, and they were 
so spent that we had to halt two or three times while they 
rested. After an hour or two of this travelling, we came to a 
hut where there was a guard. Here the sergeant made some 
sort of a report, and an entry in a book, and then the other 
convict was drafted to go on board the Hulks first. My con- 
vict only looked at me once. While we stood in the hut, he 

198 



p I p 

looked thoughtfully into the fire. Suddenly he turned to the 
sergeant and remarked that he wished to say something about 
his escape, adding that it might prevent some persons being 
laid under suspicions. 

" You can say what you like," returned the sergeant, and 
the convict continued : 

" A man can't starve, at least I can't. I took some wittles 
up at the village yonder — where the church stands a'most out 
on the marshes, and I '11 tell you where from. From the 
blacksmith's." 

" Halloa, Pip ! " said Joe, staring at me. 

" It was some broken wittles — and a dram of liquor — and 
a pie." 

" Have you happened to miss such an article as a pie, 
blacksmith ? " asked the sergeant. 

tc My wife did, at the very moment when you came in. 
Don't you know, Pip ? " 

" So," said my convict, looking at Joe, " so you 're the black- 
smith, are you ? Then I 'm sorry to say, I 've eat your pie." 

" God knows you 're welcome to it, so far as it was ever 
mine," returned Joe. " We don't know what you 've done, 
but we would n't have you starve to death for it, poor miser- 
able fellow-creature, would we, Pip ? " 

Something that I had noticed before, clicked in the man's 
throat, and he turned his back. The boat was ready for him, 
and we saw him rowed off by a crew of convicts like himself. 

We saw the boat go alongside of the Hulks, and we saw 
the prisoner taken up the side and disappear, and then the ex- 
citement was all over. I was so tired and sleepy by that time 
that Joe took me on his back and carried me home, and when 
we arrived there I was fast asleep. When at last I was roused 
by the heat and noise and lights, Joe was relating the story of 
our expedition and of the convict's confession of his theft from 

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TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

our pantry. This was all I heard that night, for my sister 
clutched me, as a slumbrous offence to the company's eye- 
sight, and assisted me very forcefully up to bed, and after that 
the subject of the convict and the robbery was only mentioned 
on a few occasions when something brought it to mind. In 
regard to my part of it, I do not recall any tenderness of con- 
science in reference to Mrs. Joe, when the fear of being found 
out was lifted off me. But I dearly loved Joe, and it was on 
my mind that I ought to tell him the whole truth. And yet I 
did not, fearing that I might lose his love, and confidence, and 
that he would think me worse than I really was. And so he 
never heard the truth of the matter. At this time I was only 
odd-boy about the forge, or errand boy for any neighbour who 
wanted a job done, and in the evenings I went to a school kept 
by Mr. Wopsle's great-aunt, who used to go to sleep from six 
to seven every evening, in the society of youth who paid two- 
pence per week each for the improving opportunity of seeing 
her do it. With her assistance, and the help of her grand- 
daughter, Biddy, I struggled through the alphabet, as if it had 
been a bramble bush, getting considerably worried and scratched 
by each letter. After that, the nine figures began to add to my 
misery, but at last I began to read, write, and cipher on the 
smallest scale. 

One night, about a year after our hunt for the convicts, Joe 
and I sat together in the chimney corner while I struggled with 
a letter which I was writing on my slate to Joe, for practice. 
As we sat there, Joe made the fire and swept the hearth, for we 
were momentarily expecting Mrs. Joe. It was market day, 
and she had gone to market with Uncle Pumblechook to as- 
sist him in buying such household stuffs and goods as required 
a woman's judgment. Just as we had completed our prepara- 
tions, she and Uncle Pumblechook drove up, and came in 
wrapped up to the eyes, for it was a bitter night. 

200 



p I p 

" Now/' said Mrs. Joe, unwrapping herself in haste and 
excitement, " if this boy ain't grateful to-night, he never 
will be ! " 

I looked as grateful as any boy could who had no idea 
what he was to be grateful about, and after many side re- 
marks addressed to the others, Mrs. Joe informed me that 
Miss Havisham wished me to go and play at her house for 
her amusement. " And of course, he 's going," added my 
sister severely, " And he had better play there, or I '11 work 
him ! " 

I had heard of Miss Havisham, everybody for miles round 
had heard of her, as an immensely rich and grim old lady, who 
lived a life of seclusion in a large and dismal house, barricaded 
against robbers. 

" Well, to be sure," said Joe, astounded, " I wonder how 
she comes to know Pip ! " 

" Noodle," said my sister, " who said she knew him ? 
Could n't she ask Uncle Pumblechook if he knew of a boy 
to go and play there? And couldn't Uncle Pumblechook, 
being always thoughtful for us, then mention this boy, that 
I have forever been a willing slave to ? " After this she ad- 
ded, " For anything we can tell, the boy's fortune is made 
by this. Uncle Pumblechook has offered to take him into 
town to-night and keep him over night, and to take him 
with his own hands to Miss Havisham's to-morrow morn- 
ing, and Lor-a-mussy me ! " cried my sister. " Here I stand 
talking, with Uncle Pumblechook waiting, and the mare 
catching cold at the door, and the boy grimed with dirt 
from the hair of his head to the sole of his foot ! " With 
that she pounced on me and I was scraped and kneaded, 
and towelled and thumped, and harrowed and reaped, until 
I was really quite beside myself. When at last my ablutions 
were completed, I was put into clean linen of the stiffest 

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TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

character, and in my tightest and fearfullest suit, I was then 
delivered over to Mr. Pumblechook, who said dramatically: 
" Boy, be forever grateful to all friends, but especially unto 
them which brought you up by hand ! " 

" Good-bye, Joe." 

" God bless you, Pip, old chap ! " 

I had never parted from him before, and what with my 
feelings, and what with soap-suds, I could at first see no stars 
from the chaise cart. But they twinkled out one by one with- 
out throwing any light on the question why on earth I was 
going to play at Miss Havisham's, and what on earth I was 
expected to play at. 

I spent the night with Uncle Pumblechook, and the next 
morning we started off for Miss Havisham's, and within a 
quarter hour had reached the house, which looked dismal, and 
had a great many iron bars to it. Some of the windows had 
been walled up, and the others were rustily barred. There 
was a court-yard in front which was also barred, so after ring- 
ing the bell we had to wait until some one should open it. 
Presently a window was raised and a voice asked cc What name ? " 
to which my conductor replied, " Pumblechook. ,, Then the 
window was shut, and a very pretty, proud-appearing young 
lady came down with keys in her hand. She opened the gate 
to let me in, and Uncle Pumblechook was about to follow, 
when the young lady remarked that Miss Havisham did not 
wish to see him. She said it in such an undiscussible way that 
Uncle Pumblechook dared not protest, and so I followed my 
young guide in alone and crossed the court-yard. We entered 
the house by a side door — the great front entrance had chains 
across it — and we went through many passages, and up a 
staircase, in the dark except for a single candle. At last we 
came to the door of a room, and she said, " Go in." 

I answered, more in shyness than politeness, " After you, 

202 



p I p 

miss." But she answered, " Don't be ridiculous, boy ; I am 
not going in," and scornfully walked away, and what was 
worse, took the candle with her. 

This was most uncomfortable, and I was half afraid. 
However, there was only one thing to be done, so I knocked 
at the door, and was told from within to enter. I entered and 
found myself in a pretty, large room, well lighted with wax 
candles. No glimpse of daylight was to be seen in it. It 
was a dressing-room, as I supposed from the furniture, though 
much of it was of forms and uses quite unknown to me then. 
But prominent in it was a draped table with a gilded looking- 
glass, and that I made out to be a fine lady's dressing-table. 

In an arm chair sat the strangest lady I have ever seen or 
shall ever see. She was dressed in rich white — in satin and 
lace and silks — all of white. Even her shoes were white, and 
she had a long white veil dependent from her hair, and bridal 
flowers in her hair, — and the hair, too, was white. Some 
bright jewels sparkled on her neck and hands and others lay 
sparkling on the table. Dresses, less splendid than the one 
she wore, and half-packed trunks, were scattered about. She 
had but one shoe on and the other was on the table near by 
— her veil was but half arranged; her watch and chain were 
not put on ; and there were lace, trinkets, handkerchief, gloves, 
some flowers, and a Prayer-book in a heap before the looking- 
glass. Then she spoke, " Who is it ? " 

" Pip, ma'am." 

" Pip ? " 

" Mr. Pumblechook's boy, ma'am. Come — to play." 

" Come nearer ; let me look at you. Come close." 

When I stood before her, avoiding her eyes, I took in all 
the details of the room and saw that her watch and clock had 
both stopped. 

" Look at me," said Miss Havisham. cc You are not 

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TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

afraid of a woman who has not seen the sun since you were 
born ? " 

I regret to say that I was not afraid of telling the enormous 
lie comprehended in the answer, '" No." 

" Do you know what I touch here? " she said, laying her 
hands on her left side. 

" Yes, ma'am." 

" What do I touch ? " 

" Your heart." 

" Broken." 

She said the word eagerly, and with a weird smile that had 
a kind of boast in it. 

" I am tired," said Miss Havisham.* " I have a sick fancy 
that I want to see some play. I want diversion, and I have 
done with men and women. There, there," with an impa- 
tient movement of the fingers of her right hand, " play, play, 
play!" 

For a moment, with the fear of my sister " working me " 
before my eyes, I had a desperate idea of starting round the 
room in the assumed character of Mr. Pumblechook's chaise 
cart. Bat I felt so unequal to the performance that I gave it 
up, and stood looking at Miss Havisham in what I suppose 
she took for a dogged manner, and presently she said : 

" Are you sullen and obstinate ? " 

" No, ma'am," I said. " I am very sorry for you and 
very sorry I can't play just now. If you complain of me, I 
shall get into trouble with my sister, so I would do it, if I 
could, but it's new here, and so strange and so fine, and — 
melancholy." I stopped, fearing I might have said too much, 
and we took another look at each other. Before she spoke 
again, she looked at herself in the glass, then she turned, and 
flashing a look at me, said, " Call Estella. You can do that. 
Call Estella. At the door." 

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p I p 

To stand in the dark in the mysterious passage of an un- 
known house, bawling " Estella " to a scornful young lady 
neither visible nor responsive, and feeling it a dreadful liberty 
to roar out her name, was almost as bad as playing to order. 
But she answered at last, and her light came trembling along 
the dark passage, like a star. Miss Havisham beckoned her 
to come close to her, took up a jewel, and tried its effect 
against the pretty brown hair. " Your own, one day, my 
dear," she said, " and you will use it well. Let me see you 
play cards with this boy." 

" With this boy ! Why, he is a common labouring boy ! " 
then she asked, with greatest disdain, "What do you play, 
boy ? " 

" Nothing but f beggar my neighbour,' miss." 

" Beggar him," said Miss Havisham to Estella. So we 
sat down to cards, and Miss Havisham sat, corpse-like, watch- 
ing as we played. 

" He calls the knaves Jacks, this boy," said Estella, with 
disdain, before the first game was out. "And what coarse 
hands he has, and what thick boots ! " 

I had never thought of being ashamed of my hands before, 
but now I began to notice them. Her contempt for me was 
so strong that I caught it. 

She won the game, and I dealt. I misdealt, as was only 
natural, when I knew she was lying in wait for me to do wrong, 
and she denounced me for a clumsy, stupid, labouring boy. 

" You say nothing of her," remarked Miss Havisham to 
me. " She says many hard things of you, yet you say nothing 
of her. What do you think of her ? " 

" I don't like to say," I stammered. 

" Tell me in my ear," said Miss Havisham, bending down. 

" I think she is very proud," I replied in a whisper — " and 
very pretty — and very insulting." 

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TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

" Anything else ? " 

" I think I should like to go home." 

" You shall go soon/' said Miss Havisham aloud. " Play 
the game out ! " I played the game to an end, and Estella 
beggared me. 

" When shall I have you here again ? " said Miss Havisham. 
" I know nothing of the days of the week or of the weeks of 
the year. Come again after six days. You hear? " 

" Yes, ma'am." 

" Estella, take him down. Let him have something to eat, 
and let him roam about and look about him while he eats. 
Go, Pip." 

I followed Estella down as I had followed her up, and at 
last I stood again in the glare of daylight which quite con- 
founded me, for I felt as if I had been in the candle-light of 
the strange room many hours. 

"You are to wait here, you boy, you," said Estella, and 
disappeared in the house. While she was gone I looked at 
my coarse hands and my common boots, and they troubled me 
greatly. 

I determined to ask Joe why he had taught me to call the 
picture-cards Jacks. I wished Joe had been rather more gen- 
teelly brought up, and then I should have been so too. 
Estella came back with some bread and meat and a little mug 
of beer which she set down as insolently as if I were a dog in 
disgrace. I was so humiliated and hurt that tears sprang to my 
eyes. When she saw them she looked at me with a quick de- 
light. This gave me the power to keep them back and to look 
at her ; then she gave a contemptuous toss of her head, and 
left me to my meal. At first, so bitter were my feelings that, 
after she was gone, I hid behind one of the gates to the brew- 
ery and cried. As I cried I kicked the wall and took a hard 
twist at my hair. However, I came out from behind the gate, 

206 



p I p 

the bread and meat were acceptable and the beer was warm and 
tingling, and I was soon in spirits to look about me. I had 
surveyed the rank old garden when Estella came back with the 
keys to let me out. She gave me a triumphant look as she 
opened the gate. I was passing out without looking at her, 
when she touched me with a taunting cry, — 

"Why don't you cry ? " 

"Because I don't want to." 

" You do," she said ; " you have been crying and you are 
near crying now ! " As she spoke she laughed, pushed me 
out, and locked the gate upon me, and I set off on the four- 
mile walk home, pondering as I went along, on what I had 
seen and heard. 

Of course, when I reached home they were very curious to 
know all about Miss Havisham's, and asked many questions 
that I was not in a mood to answer. The worst of it was that 
Uncle Pumblechook, devoured by curiosity, came gaping over 
too at tea-time to have the details divulged to him. I was not 
in a good humour anyway that night, so the sight of my tor- 
mentors made me vicious in my reticence. 

After asking a number of questions with no satisfaction, 
Uncle Pumblechook began again. 

"Now, boy," he said, "what was Miss Havisham a-doing 
of when you went in to-day? " 

" She was sitting," I answered, " in a black velvet coach." 

My hearers stared at one another — as they well might — 
and repeated, "In a black velvet coach ? " 

" Yes," said T, " and Miss Estella, that 's her niece, I think, 
handed her in cake and wine at the coach window on a gold 
plate. And we all had cake and wine on gold plates. And I 
got up behind the coach to eat mine because she told me to." 

" Was anybody else there ? " asked Mr. Pumblechook. , 

" Four dogs," said I. 

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TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

" Large or small ? " 

<f Immense, ,, said I. "And they fought for veal cutlets 
out of a silver basket." 

My hearers stared at one another again in utter amaze- 
ment. I was perfectly frantic and would have told them 
anything. 

" Where was this coach, in the name of gracious ? " asked 
my sister. 

"In Miss Havisham's room/' They stared again. " But 
there were n't any horses to it." I added this saving clause 
in the moment of rejecting four richly caparisoned coursers, 
which I had had wild thoughts of harnessing. 

" Can this be possible, uncle ? " asked Mrs. Joe. " What 
can the boy mean ? " 

" I '11 tell you, mum," said Mr. Pumblechook. " My 
opinion is it is a sedan-chair. Well, boy, and what did you 
play at ? " 

" We played with flags," I said. 

" Flags !" echoed my sister. 

" Yes," said I. " Estella waved a blue flag, and I waved 
a red one, and Miss Havisham waved one sprinkled all over 
with little gold stars, out at the coach window. And then we 
all waved our swords and hurrahed." 

"Swords!" repeated my sister. "Where did you get 
swords from ? " 

" Out of the cupboard," said I. " And I saw pistols in 
it — and jam — and pills. And there was only candlelight in 
the room." 

If they had asked me any more questions I should un- 
doubtedly have betrayed myself for I was just on the point of 
mentioning that there was a balloon in the yard and should 
have hazarded the statement, but that my invention was 
divided between that phenomenon and a bear in the brewery. 

208 



p I p 

My hearers were so much occupied, however, in discussing the 
marvels I had already presented to them, that I escaped. 
The subject still held them when Joe came in, and my ex- 
periences were at once related to him. Now, when I saw his 
big blue eyes open in helpless amazement, I became penitent, 
but only in regard to him. And so, after Mr. Pumblechook 
had driven off, and my sister was busy, I stole into the forge 
and confessed my guilt. 

" You remember all that about Miss Havisham's? " I said. 

" Remember ! " said Joe. " I believe you ! Wonderful ! " 

" It 's a terrible thing, Joe. It ain't true." 

" What are you a-telling of, Pip ? "cried Joe. "You don't 
mean to say it ! " 

" Yes, I do ; — it 's lies, Joe." 

" But not all of it ? Why, sure you don't mean to say, Pip, 
that there was no black welvet co — ch ? " For I stood there 
shaking my head. " But at least there was dogs, Pip ? Come, 
Pip, if there war n't no weal cutlets, at least there was dogs ? 
A puppy, come." 

"No, Joe," I said. "There was nothing of the kind." 

As I fixed my eyes hopelessly on him, he looked at me in 
dismay. " Pip, old chap," he said, " this won't do, I say. 
Where do you expect to go to? What possessed you ? " 

" I don't know what possessed me," I replied, hanging 
my head, "but I wish you hadn't taught me to call knaves at 
cards Jacks, and I wish my boots were n't so thick, nor my 
hands so coarse." 

Then I told Joe that I felt very miserable, but I had n't 
liked to tell Mrs. Joe and Uncle Pumblechook about the 
beautiful young lady at Miss Havisham's who was so proud, 
and that she had said I was common, and that I wished I was 
not common, and that the lies had come out of it somehow, 
though I did n't know how. 

14 . 209 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

" Well," said Joe after a good deal of thought, " there 's 
one thing you may be sure of, Pip, namely, that lies is lies. 
Howsoever they come, they did n't ought to come, and they 
come from the father of lies and work round to the same. 
Don't you tell no more of 'em, Pip. They ain't the way to 
get out of being common, old chap. And as to being 
common, I don't make it out at all clear. You 're sure an 
uncommon scholar." 

This I denied in the face of J oe's most forcible arguments, 
and at the end of our talk, I said, " You are not angry with me, 
Joe?" 

" No, old chap, but if you can't get to being uncommon 
through going straight, you '11 never get to do it through 
going crooked. So don't tell no more on 'em, Pip. Don't 
never do it no more." 

When I got up to my little room and said my prayers, I 
thought over Joe's advice and knew that it was right, and yet 
my mind was in such a disturbed and unthankful state, that 
for a long time I lay awake, not thinking over my sins> but still 
mourning that Joe and Mrs. Joe and I were all common. 

That was a memorable day for me, and it wrought great 
changes in me. I began to see things and people from a new 
point of view, and from that day dates the beginning of my 
great expectations. 

One night, a little later, I was at the village Public House 
with Joe, who was smoking his pipe with friends. In the 
room there was a stranger, who, when he heard me addressed 
as Pip, turned and looked at me. He kept looking hard at 
me, and nodding at me, and I returned his nods as politely as 
possible. Presently, after seeing that Joe was not looking, he 
nodded again and then rubbed his leg — - in a very odd way, it 
struck me — and later, he stirred his rum and water pointedly 
at me, and he tasted it pointedly at me. And he did both, not 

2IO 



p I p 

with the spoon but with a file. He did this so that nobody 
but I saw the file, and then he wiped it and put it in his pocket. 
I knew it to be Joe's file, and I knew that he was my con- 
vict the minute I saw the instrument. I sat gazing at him, 
spell-bound, but he took very little more notice of me ; only 
when Joe and I started to go, he stopped us. 

" Stop half a minute, Mr. Gargery," he said ; " I think 
I Ve got a bright shilling somewhere in my pocket ; if I have, 
the boy shall have it." He took it out, folded it in some 
crumpled paper and gave it to me. " Yours," said he. " Mind 
— your own ! " I thanked him, staring at him beyond the 
bounds of good manners, and holding tight to Joe, and then 
we went towards home, I in a manner stupefied, and thinking 
only of this turning up of my old misdeed and old acquaintance. 

We found my sister was not in a very bad temper, and Joe 
was encouraged to tell her about the shilling. I took it out of 
the paper to show her. " But what 's this ? " she said, catch- 
ing up the paper. It was nothing less than two one-pound 
notes ! Joe caught up his hat and ran with them to the Pub- 
lic House to restore them to their owner, only to find that he 
had gone. Then my sister sealed them up in a piece of paper, 
and put them on the top of a press in the state parlour, and 
there they remained. 

On the appointed day I returned to Miss Havisham, and 
as before, was admitted by Estella. As we went up stairs we 
met a gentleman groping his way down. He was bald, with a 
large head and bushy black eyebrows. His eyes were deep set 
and disagreeably keen. He was nothing to me, but I observed 
him well as he passed. 

Estella led me this time into another part of the house, and 
into a gloomy room where there were some other people, 
saying, — 

" You are to go and stand there, boy, till you are wanted." 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

"There " being the window, I crossed to it and stood looking 
out, at a deserted house and old garden, in a very uncomfort- 
able state of mind. There were three ladies and one gentle- 
man in the room, who all stopped talking and looked at me. 
Later I found out that they were particular friends of Miss 
Havisham. The ringing of a distant bell caused Estella to 
say, " Now, boy ! " and to conduct me .to Miss Havisham's 
room, leaving me near the door, where I stood until Miss 
Havisham cast her eyes upon me. 

" Are you ready to play ? " she asked. 

I answered, in some confusion, " I don't think I am, 
ma'am, except at cards ; I could do that if I was wanted." 

She looked searchingly at me and then asked, " If you are 
unwilling to play, boy, are you willing to work ? " 

As I answered this in the affirmative, she presently laid a 
hand on my shoulder. In the other she had a stick on which 
she leaned, and she looked like the witch of the place. She 
looked all round the room in a glaring manner, and then said, 
" Come, come, come ! walk me, walk me ! " 

From this I made out that my work was to walk Miss 
Havisham round and round the room. Accordingly I started 
at once and she leaned on my shoulder. She was not strong, 
and soon she said, " Slower ! " Still she went at a fitful, impa- 
tient speed, and the hand on my shoulder twitched. After a 
while she bade me call Estella, and on we started again round 
the room. If she had been alone I should have been suffi- 
ciently embarrassed, but as she brought with her the visitors, I 
didn't know what to do. I would have stopped, but Miss 
Havisham twitched my shoulder, and we posted on, — I feel- 
ing shamefaced embarrassment. The visitors remained for 
some time, and after they left Miss Havisham directed us to 
play cards as before, and as before, Estella treated me with cold 
scorn. After half a dozen games, a day was set for my return, 

212 



p I p 

and I was taken into the yard to be fed in the former dog-like 
manner. Prowling about, I scrambled over the wall into the 
deserted garden that I had seen from the window. I supposed 
the house belonging to it was empty, and to my surprise I was 
confronted by the vision of a pale young gentleman with red 
eyelids and light hair, in a window, who speedily came down 
and stood beside me. 

" Halloa ! " said he ; " young fellow, who let you in ? " 

" Miss Estella." 

" Who gave you leave to prowl about ? Come and fight," 
said the pale young gentleman. 

What could I do but follow him ? His manner was so 
final and I was so astonished that I followed where he led, 
as if under a spell. " Stop a minute, though/' he said, " I 
ought to give you a reason for fighting too. There it is ! " 
In a most irritating manner he slapped his hands against one 
another, flung one of his legs up behind him, pulled my hair, 
dipped his head and butted it into my stomach. This bull-like 
proceeding, besides that it was unquestionably to be regarded 
in the light of a liberty, was particularly disagreeable just after 
bread and meat. I therefore hit out at him and was going to 
hit out again, when he said, "Aha ! Would you ? " and began 
dancing backwards and forwards in a manner quite unparalleled 
within my limited experience. 

" Laws of the game ! " said he. Here he skipped from 
his left leg on to his right. cc Regular rules ! " Here he 
skipped from his right leg on to his left. " Come to the 
ground and go through the preliminaries ! " Here he dodged 
backwards and forwards, and did all sorts of things, while I 
looked helplessly at him. I was secretly afraid of him, but I 
felt convinced that his light head of hair could have had no 
business in the pit of my stomach. Therefore I followed him 
without a word, to a retired nook of the garden. On his ask- 

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TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

ing me if I was satisfied with the ground, and on my replying 
" Yes," he fetched a bottle of water and a sponge dipped in 
vinegar, and then fell to pulling off, not only his jacket and 
waistcoat, but his shirt too, in a manner at once light-hearted, 
business-like, and bloodthirsty. 

My heart failed me when I saw him squaring at me with 
every demonstration of mechanical nicety, and eyeing my 
anatomy as if he were minutely choosing his bone. I never 
have been so surprised in my life as I was when I let out the 
first blow and saw him lying on his back, with a bloody nose 
and his face exceedingly foreshortened. But he was on his feet 
directly, and after sponging himself began squaring again. The 
second greatest surprise I have ever had in my life was seeing 
him on his back again, looking up at me out of a black 
eye. His spirit inspired me with great respect. He was 
always knocked down, but he would be up again in a mo- 
ment, sponging himself or drinking out of the water bottle, and 
then came at me with an air and a show that made me believe 
he really was going to do for me at last. He got heavily 
bruised, for I am sorry to record that the more I hit him, the 
harder I hit him, but he came up again, and again, and again, 
until at last he got a bad fall with the back of his head against 
the wall. Even after that he got up and turned round and 
round confusedly a few times, not knowing where I was, but 
finally went on his knees to his sponge and threw it up, pant- 
ing out, " That means you have won ! " 

He seemed so brave and innocent, that although I had not 
proposed the contest, I felt but a gloomy satisfaction in my 
victory. Indeed, I go so far as to hope that I regarded myself 
as a species of savage young wolf or other wild beast. How- 
ever, I got dressed, and I said, " Can I help you ? " and he 
said, " No, thankee," and I said, " Good afternoon/' and he 
said, " Same to you ! " 

214 



p I p 

When I got into the courtyard I found Estella waiting with 
the keys to let me out. What with the visitors, and what with 
the cards, and what with the fight, my stay had lasted so long 
that when I neared home the light on the spit of sand off the 
point on the marshes was gleaming against a black night-sky, 
and Joe's furnace was flinging a path of fire across the road. 

When the day came for my return to the scene of my fight 
with the pale young gentleman, I became very much afraid as 
I recalled him on his back in various stages of misery, and the 
more I thought about it, the more certain I felt that his blood 
would be on my head and that the law would avenge it, and I 
felt that I never could go back. However, go to Miss Havi- 
sham's I must, and go I did. And behold, nothing came of 
the late struggle ! The pale young gentleman was nowhere to 
be seen, and only in the corner where the combat had taken 
place could I detect any evidences of his existence. There 
were traces of his gore in that spot, and I covered them with 
garden-mould from the eye of men, and breathed more quietly^ 
again. 

That same day I began on a regular occupation of pushing 
Miss Havisham in a light garden chair (when she was tired of 
walking with her hand on my shoulder) round through the 
rooms. Over and over and over again we made these journeys, 
sometimes lasting for three hours at a stretch, and from that 
time I returned to her every alternate day at noon for that pur- 
pose, and kept returning through a period of eight or ten 
months. As we began to be more used to one another, Miss 
Havisham talked more to. me, and asked me many questions 
about myself. I told her I believed I was to be apprenticed 
to Joe, and enlarged on knowing nothing, and wanting to know 
everything, hoping that she might offer me some help. But 
she did not, on the contrary she seemed to prefer my being 
ignorant. Nor did she give me any money, nor anything but 

2I 5 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

my daily dinner. Estella always let me in and out. Some- 
times she would coldly tolerate me, sometimes condescend to 
me, sometimes be quite familiar with me, and at other times 
she would tell me that she hated me; and all the time my 
admiration for her grew apace. 

There was a song Joe used to hum at the forge, of which 
the burden was " Old Clem." The song imitated the beating 
upon iron. Thus you were to hammer ; — Boys round — Old 
Clem ! With a thump and a sound — Old Clem ! Beat it out, 
beat it out — Old Clem ! With a clink for the stout — Old 
Clem! Blow the fire, blow the fire — Old Clem ! Roaring 
dryer, soaring higher — Old Clem ! One day I was crooning 
this ditty as I pushed Miss Havisham about. It happened to 
catch her fancy and she took it up in a low brooding voice. 
After that it became customary with us to sing it as we moved 
about, and often Estella joined in, though the whole strain was 
so subdued that it made less noise in the grim old house than 
t.he lightest breath of wind. How could my character fail to 
be influenced by such surroundings ? Is it to be wondered at 
if my thoughts were dazed, as my eyes were, when I came out 
into the natural light from the misty yellow rooms ? 

We went on this way for a long time, but one day Miss 
Havisham stopped short as she and I were walking and said, 
with displeasure : " You are growing tall, Pip ! " 

In answer I suggested that this might be a thing over 
which I had no control, and she said no more at that time, but 
on the following day she said : 

" Tell me the name again of the blacksmith of yours to 
whom you were to be apprenticed ? " 

" Joe Gargery, ma'am." 

" You had better be apprenticed at once. Would Gargery 
come here with you, and bring your indentures, do you 
think ? " 

216 



p I p 

I signified that I thought he would consider it an honour 
to be asked. 

" Then let him come ! " 

"At any particular time, Miss Havisham ? " 

" There, there, I know nothing about time. Let him 
come soon, and come alone with you ! " 

In consequence, two days later, Joe, arrayed in his Sunday 
clothes, set out with me to visit Miss Havisham, and as he 
thought his court dress necessary to the occasion, it was not 
for me to tell him that he looked far better in his working 
dress. We arrived at Miss Havisham's, and as usual Estella 
opened the door, and led the way to Miss Havisham's room. 
She immediately addressed Joe, asking him questions about 
himself and about having me for apprentice and finally she 
asked to see my indentures, which Joe produced ; I am afraid 
I was ashamed of the dear good fellow — I know I was when 
I saw Estella' s eyes were laughing mischievously. 

Miss Havisham then took a little bag from the table and 
handed it to me. 

" Pip has earned a premium here," she said, " and here it 
is. There are five and twenty guineas in the bag. Give it to 
your Master, Pip." 

I handed it to Joe, who said a few embarrassed words of 
gratitude to Miss Havisham. 

" Good-bye, Pip," she said. " Let them out, Estella." 

" Am I to come again, Miss Havisham ? " I asked. 

" No — Gargery is your master now. Gargery ! One 
word ! " Joe stepped back and she added, " The boy has 
been a good boy here, and that is his reward. Of course, as 
an honest man, you will expect no other." 

Then we went down, and in a moment we were outside of 
the gate, and it was locked and Estella was gone. When we 
stood in the daylight alone, Joe backed up against a wall, 

217 



TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

breathless with amazement, and repeated at intervals, "Aston- 
ishing ! Pip, I do assure you this is as-ton-ishing ! " Then 
we walked away, back to Mr. Pumblechook's, where we found 
my sister, and told her the great news of my earnings, and she 
was as much pleased as was possible for her to be. 

It is a miserable thing to feel ashamed of home, I assure 
you. To me home had never been a very pleasant place on 
account of sister's temper, but Joe had sanctified it, and I 
believed in it. I had believed in the Best Parlour, as a most 
elegant place, I had believed in the Front Door as a mysteri- 
ous portal of the Temple of State, I had- believed in the kitchen 
as a chaste though not magnificent apartment ; I had believed 
in the forge, as the glowing road to manhood and independ- 
ence. Within a single year all this was changed. Now it was 
all coarse and common to me, and I would not have had Miss 
Havisham and Estella see it for the world. Once it had 
seemed to me that as Joe's apprentice I should be distinguished 
and happy. Now I regret to say that I was as dejected and 
miserable as was possible to be, and in my ungracious breast 
there was a shame of all that surrounded me. 

Toward the end of my first year as Joe's apprentice I sug- 
gested that I go and call on Miss Havisham. He thought 
well of it, and so I went. 

Everything was unchanged, except that a strange young 
woman came to the door, and I found that Estella was abroad 
being educated, and Miss Havisham was alone. 

" Well," said she. " I hope you want nothing ; you '11 
get nothing ! " 

" No, indeed," I replied, " I only want you to know that I 
am doing very well and am always much obliged to you." 
We had little other conversation, and soon she dismissed me, 
and as the gate closed on me, I felt more than ever dissatisfied 
with my home, and my trade, and with everything ! 

218 



p I p 

When I reached home, some one hastened out to tell me 
that the house had been entered during my absence, and that 
my sister had been attacked and badly injured. Nothing had 
been taken from the house, but my sister had been struck a 
terrible blow, and lay very ill in bed for months, and when at 
last she could come down stairs again her mind was never quite 
clear, and she was unable to speak. So it was necessary 
to have Biddy come and take up the house-keeping, and 
meanwhile I kept up the routine of my apprenticeship-life, 
varied only by the arrival of my several birthdays, on each of 
which I paid another visit to Miss Havisham. 

On a Saturday night, in the fourth year of my apprentice- 
ship to Joe, he and I sat by a fire at the inn — the Three Jolly 
Bargemen, with a group of men. One of them was a strange 
gentleman who entered into the discussion on hand with zest, 
and then, rising, stood before the fire. " From information I 
have received," said he, looking round, " I have reason to be- 
lieve there is a blacksmith among you, by name Joseph Gar- 
gery. Which is the man?" 

" Here is the man," said Joe. 

The gentleman beckoned him out of his place, and said : 
"You have an apprentice called Pip. Is he here ? " 

To this I responded in the affirmative. The stranger did 
not recognise me, but I recognised him as the gentleman I 
had met on the stairs on my second visit to Miss Havisham. 
I had known him from the moment I had first been confronted 
with his bushy eyebrows and black eyes. 

" I wish to have a private conference with you both," he 
said. " Perhaps we had better go to your house to have it." 

So, in a wondering silence, we walked away with him 
towards home, and when we got there Joe let us in by the 
front door, and our conference was held in the state parlour. 

The stranger proceeded to tell us that he was a lawyer, 

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TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

Jaggers by name, and that he was the bearer of an offer to Joe, 
which was, that he should cancel my indentures, at my request, 
and for my good. He went on to say that his communication 
was to the effect that I had Great Expectations. Joe and I 
gasped and looked at one another as Mr. Jaggers continued : 

" I am instructed to tell Pip that he will come into a hand- 
some property, and that it is the desire of the present owner of 
that property that he be at once removed from here, and be 
brought up as befits a young gentleman of Great Expectations." 

My dream was out ! My wild fancy was realised ; Miss 
Havisham was going to make my fortune on a grand scale. 

I listened breathlessly while Mr. Jaggers added that my 
benefactor wished me to keep always the name of Pip, and also 
that the name of the benefactor was to remain a secret until 
such time as the person chose to reveal it. After stating these 
conditions, Mr. Jaggers paused, and asked if I had any objec- 
tions to complying with them, to which I stammered that I 
had not, and Mr. Jaggers continued that he had been made 
my guardian, that he would provide me with a sum of money 
ample for my education and maintenance, and that he should 
advise my residing in London, and having as tutor one 
Matthew Pocket, whom I had heard mentioned by Miss Havi- 
sham. 

"First," continued Mr. Jaggers, "you should have some 
new clothes. You will want some money. I will leave you 
twenty guineas, and will expect you in London on this day 
week." 

He produced a purse and counted out the money, then 
eyeing Joe, he said, "Well, Joe Gargery, you look dumb- 
founded?" 

"I am ! " said Joe, with decision. 

" Well," said Mr. Jaggers, " what if I were to make you a 
present as compensation ? " 

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p IP 

" For what ? " said Joe. 

" For the loss of the boy's services." 

Joe laid a hand on my shoulder with the touch of a woman, 
saying : 

" Pip is that hearty welcome to go free with his services, to 
honour and fortune, as no words can tell him ! But if you 
think as money can make compensation to me for the loss of 
the little child what come to the forge, — and ever the best of 
friends — " 

O dear, good Joe, whom I was so ready to leave, and so 
unthankful to — I see you again to-day, and in a very different 
light. I feel the loving tremble of your hand upon my arm as 
solemnly to-day as if it had been the rustle of an angel's wing. 
But, at the time, I was lost in the mazes of my good for- 
tune, and thought of nothing else, and as Joe remained firm on 
the money question, Mr. Jaggers rose to go, giving me a few 
last instructions for reaching London. 

Then he left and we vacated the state parlour at once for the 
kitchen, where my sister and Biddy were sitting. I told the 
news of my great expectations and received congratulations, 
which had in them a touch of sadness which I rather resented. 

That night Joe stayed out on the doorstep, smoking a pipe 
much later than usual, which seemed to hint to me that he 
wanted comforting, for some reason, but in my arrogant happi- 
ness, I could not understand his feelings. 

During the next week I was very busy making my prep- 
arations to leave. With some assistance I selected a suit, and 
went also to the hatter's and boot-maker's and hosier's, and 
also engaged my place on the Saturday morning coach. Then 
I went to make my farewells to Uncle Pumblechook, whom I 
found awaiting me with pride and impatience, for the news had 
reached him. He shook hands with me at least a hundred 
times, and blessed me, and stood waving his hand at me until 

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TEN BOYS from CHARLES DICKENS 

I passed out of sight. It was now Friday, and I dressed up in 
my new clothes to make a farewell visit to Miss Havisham. I 
felt awkward and self-conscious, and rang the bell constrainedly 
on account of the still long fingers of my new gloves. Miss 
Havisham received me as usual, and I explained to her that I 
was to start for London on the morrow, and that I had come 
into a fortune, for which I was more grateful than I could ex- 
press. She asked me a number of questions, and then said : 

" Well, you have a promising career before you. Be good, 
deserve it, and abide by Mr. Jagger's instructions. Good-bye, 
Pip." She stretched out her hand, and I knelt down and 
kissed it, — and so I left my fairy god-mother, with both her 
hands on her crutch-stick, standing in the middle of the dimly- 
lighted room. 

I little dreamed then that it was not to her that I owed my 
Great Expectations, but to my older acquaintance, the convict, 
for whom I had robbed my sister's larder long ago. But of 
this I little dreamed, and knew nothing until years later. 

And now the six days had gone, and to-morrow looked me 
in the face. As my departure drew near I became more ap- 
preciative of the society of my family. On this last evening I 
dressed myself in my new clothes for their delight, and sat in 
my splendour until bedtime. We had a hot supper on the occa- 
sion, and pretended to be in high spirits, although none of us 
were. 

All night my broken sleep was filled with fantastic visions, 
and I arose early and sat by my window, taking a last look at 
the familiar view. Then came an early, hurried breakfast, and 
then I kissed my sister and Biddy, and threw my arms around 
Joe's neck, took up my little portmanteau, and walked out. 
Presently I heard a scuffle behind me, and there was Joe, 
throwing an old shoe after me. I waved my hat, and dear old 
Joe waved his arm over his head, crying huskily, " Hooroar ! " 



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p I p 

I walked away rapidly then, thinking it was not so hard to 
go, after all. But then came a thought of the peaceful village 
where I had been so care-free and innocent, and beyond was the 
great unknown world, — and in a moment, I broke into tears, 
sobbing : 

" Good-bye, oh my dear, dear friend ! " I was better after 
that, more sorry, more aware of my ingratitude to Joe, more 
gentle. 

So subdued was I by my tears that when I was on the 
coach, I deliberated, with an aching heart, whether I should 
not get down when we changed horses, and walk back for one 
more evening at home and a better parting, but while I was 
still deliberating, we went on, and changed again, and then it 
was too late and too far for me to go back, and I must go on. 

And the mists had all solemnly risen about me now, and 
the world lay spread before me, and I must go on. And so 
my boyhood came to an end, and the first stage of my Great 
Expectations was over. 



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I/O 



